


Walls

by TheRisingSign



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Tug-Of-War, F/M, Healing, M/M, Pining, Romantic Tension, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 39,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRisingSign/pseuds/TheRisingSign
Summary: Bruce Banner is once again on the path of self-destruction. Time hasn't ebbed his pain, nor has seclusion. Festering with loathing and blame, he is determined to be his own greatest enemy... But Tony just won't let him. Eventual Tony Banner! (Fair warning: This was started before the release of Age Of Ultron and beyond... follows its own timeline.)





	1. The Man that Death Forgot

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hey there, reader, it’s nice to finally join AO3! I’ve done most of my reading on ff.net, and I finally got curious enough to bring myself over here. I can’t say this is my first story, but this is the first one I’ve taken so seriously. This has been my baby since… I gotta say… late 2013 or so. Emotions and thought processes have always intrigued me most in story-telling, and the science bros certainly have a lot to give. And don't worry; I've done my best to make everyone as in-character as possible.  
> With that said, I hope you enjoy what you came for! (Comments are very much appreciated!) 
> 
> (OBLIGATORY) DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Marvel or any of its characters.

Bruce thought he had come to terms with his curse. He thought he had learned to accept what he couldn't change. Yet there he stood, at square one. The day had given way to night, thick condensation clouding his vision. All that surrounded him were dead, leafless trees, which provided no shelter from the elements. It didn't really matter. The sky wept much as he did internally, soaking every inch of his shivering body. His gaze never wavered from the gun in his hand. The sleek metal was comforting in a way. He could rid himself of the recurring nightmares, the pain of suppressed emotions, the trauma of lives lost, of lives destroyed… all with a good bullet. It felt… right; for once in his life, he was in complete control. The moment quickly passed as wretched realization struck him: His first attempt had gotten him nowhere; how would this be any different? "Second time's the charm," he muttered under his breath. If he could find no cure, if he was a constant danger to others, this was the only logical option. Just had to fire enough rounds.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" An all-too-familiar voice from behind startled the physicist out of his trance. Tony…

"How'd you find me…?" Bruce halfheartedly asked, removing the safety on the gun. He had travelled halfway across the country to a remote area, made sure to stay hidden, had no devices by which he could be tracked…

Huh.

It wasn't that much of a shock, he supposed; if Tony wanted to find someone, he would.

"Doesn't matter. Don't answer my question with a question."

"Well, Tony," Bruce chuckled, "it's pretty obvious what I'm doing." He offered not so much as a glance in the other man's direction. Cocking the gun, he continued, "I'm trying to solve a very big problem." The gun was raised to his temple, and his finger hovered over the trigger. "You might want to leave." Cold, metal hands whipped him around to face the billionaire. He could tell that Tony was genuinely concerned for him; the look in his eye said it all without him having to say a word. It puzzled him, however. Bruce had fractured the man's skull, broke quite a few of his ribs, and partially crushed his leg some 6 ½ months ago. Even now, he was still recovering.

"Do you realize just how stupid and selfish you sound right now?" Tony scoffed.

"No, I guess I don't." So what if he was being selfish? So what if he was being stupid? There was no point in going on the way he did. It was all a vicious cycle, and it needed to end.

"…Drop the gun, Bruce." Tony demanded. This only made Bruce grip the weapon tighter. The billionaire's dark eyes peered into Bruce's, searching for the slightest glint of recognition. He found nothing of the sort. Tony knew his suicide attempt would fail; Bruce had said it himself. That wasn't what worried him. It was the simple fact that Bruce wanted to do it.

"I'm not sure I want to." Bruce mumbled.

Tony's metal-clad hand clasped around Bruce's wrist, hoping he would comply. "Bruce. Drop it."

It was clear Tony would have it no other way. Releasing a shallow breath, Bruce finally spoke. "Fine." The gun fell from his hand, his head bowed and gaze averted. "It wouldn't have worked anyway."

Tony released his grip on the doctor. "Maybe you should stop trying to solve a problem that's already solved itself." This made the doctor laugh.

"Has it?"

"Yes, it has. So promise me something. Promise me I'll never see that," Tony pointed to the gun on the ground, "in your hand again. I mean it."

Bruce raised his head, staring into the soft blue light that shone on Tony's chest. "…I'll try. That's about the only promise I can make."

"Good enough. I'm taking you back to New York." From the clouds emerged his aircraft, on autopilot. "Any opposition will be bluntly ignored."


	2. Talk to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony takes an unwilling Bruce to Stark Tower. The doctor isn't very receptive. He'd much rather run. But that means very little to Tony.

The flight back was long and unpleasant. The hum of the ship was all that filled the silence inside of the billionaire's aircraft. Bruce was a damp, shivering mess, eyes steady yet unseeing on the cloudy path ahead. He wasn't there, rather, in his head. After what seemed like an eternity, the two geniuses had arrived. They were on the 92nd floor of Stark Tower, one of the more leisurely sections of the building. Filled with amenities that catered to every need, the area was a stress-free zone—according to the lax engineer. Bruce, having changed into dry clothes, (courtesy of said engineer) stood silently as fresh cup of coffee was prepared for him. He had insisted that he was content, but the billionaire had decided he wasn't. "Black or sweetened?" Tony called over his shoulder. 

"Lightly sweetened. Thanks." Bruce muttered.

Bruce wasn't particularly happy to be back. Not that that had been much of a mystery. He expected an interrogation, to be berated and hovered over until Tony heard what he wanted to hear. And so he waited for the moment he was sure would come. Tony limped over to him, handing him his cup of coffee, and the two men took a seat in the living room. Quietly sipping at his coffee, the doctor hadn't said a single word. He didn't want to break the silence; silence was very precious to him. It gave him a chance to contemplate, a chance to assess. He wouldn't stay in the Tower. He couldn't. The people here didn't deserve the looming threat his presence brought. Especially Tony; he was the only person who had completely looked past the Other Guy. But that didn't make the man invincible.

"Is it bad? The coffee, I mean. You're just gawking at it."

Bruce was pulled back to the present. Offering a weak shake of the head, he replied. "Oh… No, it's fine." He took a long sip of the steaming drink. Feeling the other man's eyes on him, he continued staring into his coffee; he hated being observed. He never knew how much the other could figure out from a simple glance.

Tony spoke up once more. "You've been wandering around for I dunno how long. The food in here is yours."

"Thanks, but I don't…" Bruce trailed off, releasing a helpless sigh.

"Oh, and another thing," Tony continued, "I knew you'd go running off again given the chance, so I took some liberties. You'll find it just a bit harder to leave now. Isn't that right, Jarvis?" He looked to the ceiling with a satisfied, crooked smile.

An English-accented voice spoke up. _"Indeed. At the moment, Doctor Banner, you are not allowed access to any of the building's exits. I've encrypted them, per Tony's instruction. I do apologize for the inconvenience."_

The engineer sank proudly into the sofa, glancing noncommittally at Bruce's disdained expression. "Don't look at me like that. You know you were gonna pull your little disappearing act as soon as I fell asleep. I wasn't letting that happen again."

"Tony, you can't just lock me in here." The doctor sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Turns out I can. Really don't like the thought of you wanting to hurt yourself."

"And how exactly is keeping me locked inside your tower going to change anything?"

"I'll be able to keep an eye on you. Can't help you if you up and leave."

Bruce carefully set his cup of coffee on the small glass table in front of him and stood. "I'm not some lost puppy, Tony."

"I agree. But you are my friend." Tony straightened in his seat. "So go on and throw a fit. Do what you have to. But I'm not letting you run off like this."

"Tony, you know I wouldn't do that… Look, for your sake, I can't stay. I nearly killed you."

"Nearly." Tony said. "What happened that day doesn't matter anymore. Do yourself a favor and stop dwelling on it." He could never harbor any real animosity for the man. Bruce understood him better than most. He rivaled his intellect, was a man of mystery and deep thought. The more time he spent with him the more he figured out; he was intriguing, to say the least. Any of those characteristics could outshine his much greener one. This was his decision. He would do all he could to make the man forget whatever pain he was going through… maybe even completely rid him of it. Banner just had to stay put for a while.

Jarvis spoke up once more. _"Sir, an incoming call from Director Fury."_ A large transparent monitor descended in front of the billionaire. Rolling his eyes, Tony pressed 'accept', expecting an plethora of complaints. A very irate-looking man had appeared on the screen. With an imposing gaze, he sat for a moment in silence, saying enough already. 

"Whatever it is, make it quick." Tony grumbled. "I'm trying to have a heart-to-heart with someone over here."

"I'm really not in the mood tonight, Stark. You've been dodging me for days on end. I thought it was made clear that cooperation—"  
"—was needed if the Avengers Initiative was going to work. I know. I've just been… terribly busy." Glancing at his watch, Tony sighed. "Were you planning on getting to the point of your call anytime soon? I've got a few things to wrap up here."

Bruce quietly observed Tony's and Fury's little back and forth. It was funny how quickly Tony had turned into an asshole. Not that he wasn't an asshole to Bruce. But when it came to him, Tony was never an asshole without good intention. He shook his head at the idea. Intentions hardly matter if the outcome remains the same, and Tony just didn't _get_ that. Tony was a tenacious creature, and Bruce was a lost cause. He had to leave before his friend figured that out the hard way... again. Returning to the present moment, the doctor had caught the last few words spoken. 

"… Fine, fine, I'll do it. But only because you so desperately need my expertise."

"Just get it done, Stark." Fury's face faded from the screen, and with a snap, the monitor rose to the ceiling.

"Jeez, what rod does he have stuck up his ass?" Tony mumbled to himself.

"You ignored his calls."

"Don't take his side." Standing and stretching, the billionaire had realized just how exhausted he was. The week was filled with tedious work that had drained him both mentally and physically. The only good thing he got out of the week was finding Bruce. The wonders of discreet trackers… and oblivious friends. Oh, the convenience. With a limp in his step, Tony made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a wine cooler from the fridge. Returning to his place on the sofa, he motioned for the doctor to join him again. With a bit of coaxing, he complied.

Bruce was not nearly as relaxed as his extroverted counterpart. As the minutes ticked by, it became more and more difficult to stay focused. He, too, had glanced at his watch. It was three past two in the morning; he would be fast asleep right now… if each dream he had wasn't plagued with terrible happenings of the past. He would avoid sleep as long as he could out of fear, caffeine and brooding his only assistance in staying awake. But, being human, sleep was inevitable, and his body was already so weary. He would soon have to relive those painful moments. Wringing his hands and bouncing his leg, his anxiety was less than subtle. "Penny for your thoughts?" Tony asked, taking another swig. The doctor merely shook his head in dismissal. 

He really didn't like to talk about his problems. Whenever he did, the conversation was brisk and vague. As Dr. Banner, confidentiality was his only defense. As the Other Guy, he was his every defense. The contrast between his two personalities was nearly infinite. At the moment, however, there was no apparent threat. Tony's sincerity has been proven through and through… So why build walls that were not needed? He supposed it was instinct. It would be far too much work to tear the walls down now. "It isn't anything you can help me with," he finally said. Rubbing his stinging eyes, he gave a terse huff. "You really shouldn't waste your energy on me, Tony… In fact, how's Pepper?" The billionaire seemed to stiffen at the question.

"The old _Dodge 'n Change,_ huh? If my justifiable concern isn't your cup of tea, you could just leave the Tower. Oh, wait…"

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

Tony feigned a look of astonishment. "Well aren't you observant?" His expression faded to solemnity. "She and I are... going through it right now. The real mystery is what's going on with you."

The doctor sighed. "…I have nightmares I can't escape. That's what's bothering me right now. Happy?"

Tony hummed in acknowledgement. "Now we're getting somewhere... Elaborate."


	3. The Sandman Bleeds Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unpleasant dreams make for unpleasant days. The Doctor's been struggling with this for a long time, and has grown much too accustomed to his mental shadow.

Bruce and Tony had conversed for about another half hour, until the doctor could hardly keep his eyes open. Willing himself to stay awake, the doctor grabbed his cup of forgotten coffee and stood, guzzling the lukewarm beverage.

Tony looked up at the doctor. Exhaustion grew more and more apparent on his face. "You need to get some rest. We both do."

"Weren't you listening?" Bruce mumbled. "I can't sleep."

"Then let me at least show you to your room."

"No."

"Are you gonna be this stubborn the whole time? Cos I don't mind dragging you there."

"Why do you even still care? Follow everyone else's lead and stay away from me."

Unmoved by the doctor's words, Tony scoffed. "I'm not much of a conformist. Believe it or not, I'm actually quite fond of you, Banner, and I want to help you." The doctor began pacing back and forth.

"I've lost all my redeeming qualities years ago." He countered, a bitter smile darkening his features. "There isn't much to be fond of."

Tony caught the doctor's gaze. "I'm not so sure. You'd be surprised." The two had known each other for nearly four years. The only thing he couldn't stand about Bruce was his self-loathing.

Bruce gave up; nothing he said dissuaded Tony, and he didn't have the energy to put up much of a fight. Dizziness had gripped the sleep-deprived doctor, forcing him to lean against a nearby wall. Tony's voice reached him, garbled and indistinct. "'M fine, 'm alright…" He insisted in a thick slur. Closing his eyes, he became deadweight, and fell to the floor.

Dragging it is.

…

Tony struggled to bring the doctor to his room, the latter stumbling along unconsciously. Stark made haste to leave, returning to nurse his half-finished wine cooler. Covering his tired eyes with his hand, he himself was caught in a swirl of thoughts. He just wanted to do the right thing. Not fifteen minutes later, and already had Bruce begun to twitch and turn restlessly in his bed. The noise alerted Stark, and he returned to his bedside. 

Eyebrows furrowed, Bruce muttered something incoherent. Tony placed a hand on his shoulder, and he recoiled. "Bruce?" The billionaire spoke quietly. Shaking the doctor, he once again called his name. "Bruce, it's alri—" The doctor had awoken, and his hands immediately wrapped around Tony's throat. His eyes glowed a bright green, but the color quickly faded as recognition struck him. Releasing his grip, Bruce stared apologetically into the other man's eyes. "…I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Shouldn't have scared you like that."

"Stop doing that, Tony. You aren't at fault and you know it."

"Neither are you."

Looking around, Bruce grew confused. "How did I…?"

"I brought you here." Straightening his stance, Tony headed for the door a second time. "Jarvis, let me know if there're any more irregularities in Bruce's sleep patterns." 

_"Of course, Sir."_

"See you in the morning." Tony shut the door behind him, leaving Bruce to ponder. In all, truest honesty, he enjoyed Tony's company; he even began to think he needed it. Tony was the only one who unwaveringly gave a damn about his wellbeing. He was also the only one he allowed into his personal plights, rare as those occasions were. Yet at the same time, he couldn't bear the thought of hurting the man again. He had caused enough pain, he had seen enough pain. He wasn't going to inflict it upon someone he cared about. Not again. Never again. With these final thoughts racing through his head, it wasn't long before the doctor was once again taken by sleep.

…

"You found him?" Pepper asked.

"Yeah. I hear that tone again, hon."

"I'm just worried is all."

Tony stared ahead, pausing for a moment. "Well, you shouldn't be. I'm gonna be fine."

"You don't know that. You thought you were 'gonna be fine' 7 months ago."

"…When will you be back?"

"I'd say about 12 hours…" Distant chattering was heard on her end. "I have to go. This conversation isn't over." But to him it was. No amount of protest could make Tony up and drop Bruce. He and Pepper were too important to him.


	4. The Sting of Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things shouldn't feel so comfortable. Not when a man with the rage of a million is involved. Pepper understands that very well. So does Bruce. It's just the law of things. Tony, on the other hand, has a knack for sticking to his beliefs. Unpleasantries aren't an option.

The doctor had been awoken by the warm kiss of sunlight. Combing his fingers through his unruly hair, he sat up and stretched, golden streams hitting the wall adjacent to him. He was surprised; it'd been a while since he slept the whole night through. Taking a look around his room, he lifted a brow, impressed. The room was perfectly furnished. There wasn't too much, and there wasn't too little. Wonderfully subtle and functional, exactly how he liked it. A shame he couldn't stay.

Another door off to the side led to a large bathroom. The floor was of expensive tile, the sink counter smooth with marble. The tub could easily be mistaken for a Jacuzzi… he swore three people could fit comfortably in there— _"Good afternoon, Doctor Banner."_ Startled, Bruce nearly jumped out of bed. He would never get used to Jarvis. 

"Afternoon…?"

 _"Yes, Doctor. Mr. Stark wished for me to inform you of his whereabouts as soon as you woke. You can find him on the 91st floor. He is working."_ Thanking the AI, Bruce headed for the bathroom and freshened up.

After a hot shower, the doctor felt a little better. The emptiness he felt before waned ever so slightly. He both loved it and hated it. He loved it because if only for a fleeting moment, he didn't feel alone. He hated it because in loving it, he may grow attached; his walls would crumble. What then? Having changed into gray slacks, a buttoned teal shirt, and a pair of black oxfords, the doctor finally headed downstairs.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Bruce was greeted by pure, unadulterated noise. Rock blared from the overhead speakers, the air practically trembling with music. Turning, the engineer lifted his face shield visor, and smiled. Noticing the doctor's discomfort, he turned the music off. "Hey. You rest well?"

The doctor nodded slowly, carefully. It was an odd concept. Lowering his visor, Tony continued to work. Curious, Bruce stood beside the engineer. "What exactly are you working on?"

Gesturing with a gloved hand, Tony explained. "Oh, just making a few modifications to my suit. Space travel's a must these days; all the kids're doing it. Got myself in a bit of a rut, though. There're a shit ton of hypotheticals to consider, contingency facets to augment, yada, yada…"

Bruce removed his glasses and set them on the table in front of him. He couldn't help the smile tugging at his lips. "You? Having trouble?"

"Eh. Just need a fellow genius's input." Tony lied. Of course, he knew exactly what he was doing; he was merely being... a little selfish. What he had interest in, he would remain attached to, much like Pepper, much like his work, much like Bruce. And if it kept the other from eyeing the exit, then damn it, he would say whatever he needed to. Grabbing a small bag, he offered it to Bruce. "Gummy worm?" 

"I haven't even had breakfast." 

"'Course you haven't. It's noon." Tony mocked.

Bruce smiled a sincere smile. If only for a moment, he had forgotten that all this was temporary. Reaching into the bag, he pulled out 5 of the gelatin candies. One by one, they went into his mouth, and once they were gone, he went for more. Before he knew it, the bag was empty. "Sorry," the doctor mumbled, "I forgot about my sweet tooth…"

Tony raised an inquisitive brow. "Curiouser and curiouser… You're more impulsive than you lead on. I gotta bring more sweets around you."

"…Let's just get to work."

"It can wait. I'll go make you some brunch."

Hunger gripped Bruce's stomach, but Tony had already done more than enough. "You don't have to-"

"But I do. Or rather, I want to. Besides, Pepper will be home any minute. I might as well whip somethin' up for the both of you."

Removing his gloves and visor, Tony headed downstairs. The doctor decided to take a look around. As expected, it was perfect. A single large window allowed natural light in, while also providing a nice view of the city. The chrome themed lab catered to every scientific need. A screen just beside him showed the image of the prototype suit and all its basic functions. Observing the engineer's work, he began to wonder why Tony started such a project now. He thought back to last night's call from the Director. Perhaps this was what Fury had requested of Tony.

The doctor took a seat in a nearby swivel chair and kept his eyes to the ceiling, staring at nothing in particular. The fleeting moment of happiness had passed, and he had come to his senses. He hated it… and he loved it.

…

35 minutes later…

_"Sir, Miss Potts has arrived."_

"Perfect. Send her up here."

_"Of course."_

A few minutes later, Pepper had arrived, and was greeted with a kiss. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Tony walked her to the kitchen counter. "Hey. How was the flight back?" He headed to the stove.

"Pretty quiet, just the way I like it. Mm... Something smells good."

…

Brunch was, to say the least, uncomfortable. Tony had insisted that his two favorite people eat together. Neither Pepper nor Bruce spoke a word to each other, except for the usual formalities. Bruce knew Pepper was afraid, and Pepper knew Bruce felt guilty, but neither could address the obvious. Their body language, however, said it all. Tony couldn't stand uncomfortable silences. "...I know I'm no master chef, but I figured you two'd have an appetite."

"..."

"..."

Stealing a few nervous glances at Pepper, the doctor decided his company wasn't needed. He hurriedly finished his food and headed to the sink. "The food was great," he said, cleaning his dishes, "but I think I'll stay in the lab." He was gone before Tony could object. So much for bonding.

"That went well."

Pepper visibly relaxed in her seat. "I'm sorry, Tony. I don't doubt Dr. Banner is a good man. It's what he turns into that bothers me."

"If you recall, I was the one that provoked him that day." Tony defended.

"Whatever you did or said isn't justification enough for nearly getting yourself killed."

"Oh, boy… you two sound alike."

"Then why don't you take our word for it and leave him be?"

"Well, for starters, I found the man trying to kill himself. Again." Pepper said nothing. Tony continued. "Yeah. Which is why I really hoped the two of you could get along for a while… You know, until he's… better. Please trust me when I say nothing will happen." Placing a reassuring kiss on the woman's forehead, he took a seat. "On a happier note, how did the meeting go?"

…

Fear.

It was there in Pepper's eyes, glaringly clear. Bruce hated it. It was too familiar a sight. There was a very small handful of people he could trust, thanks to fear… But he couldn't blame those who were afraid. The man was a living, ticking time bomb; suppressed emotions always bubbled and raged below the surface. He could only forget his anger in the company of those he cared for. Yet those he cared for always ended up hurt. Whatever helped him, he couldn't have. Agitated, he paced back and forth, tugging at his curls. Why the hell was he even dwelling on this? Despite his efforts, his mind returned time and time again to these dark musings, like they just didn't want to let him go. He stared at his palms, wondering if that tinge of green he saw was real.

 _"Are you alright, Dr. Banner?"_ The AI chimed in. _"It seems you are experiencing symptoms of anxiety."_

"I suppose Tony told you to monitor me." Bruce sighed, shoulders slumped. "I'm fine."

_"Very good. Please don't hesitate to ask me for anything."_

"Thanks." After calming himself some, the doctor had retrieved his glasses and snuck another look at Tony's prototype. The design, as always, was flawless. The blueprints outlined the functions and subfunctions of each moving part. He began to wonder what Tony needed from him on this. Radiation shielding, perhaps? Nope, had that, too. Of course, it could very well have been nothing more than a ploy...

"Great, isn't it?" Bruce jumped at Tony's voice; he hadn't even heard him come in. "I don't know why I hadn't started it sooner." Draping an arm over the doctor's shoulder, he too, marveled at his work. "Shall we begin?"

"I really don't think I'd be of much help. This is perfect as it is."

"Well… yeah. I know. But someone to talk to would be nice. And besides," stepping away, Tony grabbed something from a nearby cabinet, "free gummy worms."


	5. To Have Your Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting what you want can always be a bit of a dangerous gamble. A little something extra may manage to slip through the cracks, something you'd rather not know.  
> A bit of time has passed. Tony wants what he wants for his two favorite people, and he's determined for good to happen. But perhaps he's better off just _having_ his cake. It doesn't seem he has room to eat it.

Two weeks had passed. Two weeks with a certain self-destructive guest… and his many, subtle ruses to avoid help. Bruce was adamant. But Tony had his ways. The billionaire had the Tower to himself now, and with that, a chance to reflect. The last few days had been very… constructive. Reluctantly, the man had put business before pleasure, attending monotonous meetings, interviews, and handling a little mishap with a wannabe villain. In summation, he had earned his moment of leisure.

The background noise of Aerosmith had soothed him; dead silence wasn't an option. Especially not now. Pouring a shot glass of vodka, his mind began to wander. Were Bruce and Pepper enjoying their friendly dinner together? Was Dum-E tinkering with something that he shouldn't? When was the Chinese food going to get there? And also… were Bruce and Pepper enjoying their friendly dinner together? He was particularly curious about that. His thoughts never wandered far from the two. Tension between the woman and doctor had waned, but not enough to satisfy him. He wanted them to enjoy each other's company, not just tolerate it. Was that selfish? Maybe just a bit.

One shot of vodka had become two, and two had become three. It was all to drown the sudden guilt that had only grown as the days went on. But even the most intoxicating drink couldn't efface his internal worries. He gave up after his third. Tony almost wished for the distraction of work again; there were some things he wasn't quite ready to confront, not even in the privacy of his own mind.

…

Bruce wasn't sure how Tony talked him into having dinner with Pepper. Perhaps it was his charm. Nonetheless, it was going fairly well. Bruce had ordered the seafood platter with sparkling water, and Pepper shrimp scampi with white wine. "How's the pasta?" He wasn't much of a conversationalist, but he tried.

"It's pretty good," Pepper offered. "I'd probably enjoy it more if…" 

"If…?" Banner pressed. 

Sipping at her wine, Pepper sighed and smiled weakly. "I never thought I'd be confiding in you, Doctor." Bruce merely tilted his head, awaiting her explanation. "It's just that… I miss Tony. He's been... off lately, like he was three years ago. Physically he's there, but… that's pretty much it most of the time. He's disconnected, and I don't know why. You know him; be honest: am I the only one who's seeing this?" A look of desperation filled her eyes; it was obvious she needed validation, something Bruce couldn't provide. Not without lying. Tony seemed lively and bold as usual, perhaps even more so. He merely frowned, though that was hardly any consolation. 

"Have you spoken to him about it?" The woman shook her head. 

"I'm sure you already know Tony is a busy man just as I'm a busy woman. With his duties pulling him in all directions, it can be… pretty difficult to keep his undivided attention." Bruce didn't quite know how to respond; he felt dissonance with every word she spoke. And he wasn't exactly the kind of man to get into people's personal business.

"I think," he began carefully, "I think I'll have a little chat with him."

During the car ride back, Bruce wondered many things. He stared blankly out of the window as he had an epiphany of sorts. His past was slowly, finally becoming his past. And he loved that. That one part of him still wanted to think he hated it, but was failing miserably. It had been two weeks. These two weeks had afforded him the mental relief he so sorely wanted, needed. The contempt he held for himself ebbed in Tony's presence. The dark thoughts he'd grappled with daily had left him in those moments. He was… happy in those moments. It took a few seconds for him to realize they had arrived. The chauffeur opened the doors and bid the two a goodnight.

…

Tony stared impatiently at his watch. It was six past eleven. The Chinese food had arrived, and was long gone. A bit of tinkering was done here and there on a few minor projects. A refreshing, warm shower had done its part to keep him awake, while the company of music filled the air around him. What was missing? He pretended not to know. Flipping through channels on the television, the billionaire anxiously waited. _"Sir,"_ Jarvis called, _"Miss Potts and Dr. Banner have returned from dinner. They are on their way up."_ He would have been glad, that is, if he wasn't nervous instead. Funny. He was never the jittery type. The elevator doors opened.

Pepper hurried to his side, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Hey. You were right, dinner was great." 

Tony returned the gesture and smiled. "See? I knew it would be." After a few moments of whispering clever comments in each other's ears, Pepper had decided to head upstairs and change for bed.

"…"

Bruce kept his gaze averted the entire time. Just where did Pepper see a 'disconnection'? The two seemed perfectly fine together.

"Hey." Tony interrupted. "You've been starin' at the ground for the longest. Something bothering you?"

"No…" The doctor mumbled. That… wasn't very convincing. He awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets, and continued. "Well, yes, actually. I know you said that there were some issues between you and Pepper. She even mentioned it to me… said you seem distant." This earned him a peculiar stare from Tony.

"Distant? Is that how I come off?"

"Well, according to her. It's hardly any business of mine, but… might there be something bothering... _you?_ Keeping you at arm's length?"

The billionaire disregarded the question. "Distant…"

"…Look, after so long, she and I are on considerably good terms now. I think it'd be in her best interest if you… spent a little more time with her." The two shared a brief moment of eye contact. There was something there in the billionaire's eyes… something unintelligible. Before Bruce could figure it out, Tony broke the connection and turned his back to face him. He knew he couldn't help much. Perhaps it would be good to have someone to listen to, the same courtesy he was provided. "Tony," he tried again, bolder this time, "tell me… is there something wrong?" He felt it wasn't enough, not after all Tony was doing for him. But what else could he do? 

With an incredulous smile, Tony simply answered: "No." He slipped past the doctor, and headed for the elevator.

…

Tony cussed under his breath. Maybe he was being distant. Of course he wouldn't notice. He was often too lost in the moment, too engulfed in _him_ self and _his_ feelings to notice. And all at Pepper's expense. She didn't even feel it was worth talking about. He really was an asshole.

Even he noticed his mood improve around Bruce. He knew he had helped the doctor immensely, and he enjoyed the fact that he was the only one who could get the doctor to open up, to smile. He was a thousand-piece puzzle he was learning to put together. He stared straight ahead, grimacing.

The elevator doors opened, and he stepped out. He had arrived on the 102nd floor. Leaning against a nearby wall, he sighed. Guilt held him again, and he found himself suffocating under its heavy weight. And that made him think.

Just a few moments prior, a part of him he tried to forget made an unexpected appearance.

This was something completely new for Tony. An absolute first. Never had he ever felt something for another man. It was something he had no control over, and he hated it. Being in control was his _thing._ But the truth seemed to be that it had been this way for a long time, if not always… Now, it was a little louder, a little more noticeable. It wasn't much, just a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. But it was there. It was growing.  
And it was terrifying.

Tomorrow would be different. It would have to be.


	6. What Does it Cost to Change?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An event causes Bruce to sink back into a place he shouldn't be. After all, the slightest hiccup to someone so high-strung could feel so much worse. The way he was, there's no way he can change, right? What could he be, besides trouble? Sometimes, even a genius can be wrong.

Brown, tired eyes opened to the faint light of early morning. The doctor groaned exasperatedly. He had another… difficult night. The bed was suddenly so comfortable; he didn't want to move a muscle. Staring blankly ahead at a bare wall, he sighed. It took a few minutes to will himself to sit upright. His eyes wandered around the room and he immediately panicked. Part of the bed's headboard lied broken on the floor. The drawer beside the bed was splintered with visible fist marks, the touch lamp it held toppled over and cracked. Dear god. So he could rage in his sleep. Getting out of bed, he examined the room completely. Except for a large crack in the wall, nothing else had been destroyed; he had apparently calmed down before any real damage could be done.

Trying to keep a leveled head, he trudged to the bathroom to complete his morning ritual. No one was hurt, he told himself, nobody got hurt. Once finished, he realized his glasses had disappeared. After a few minutes of searching, he found them between the dresser and the bed, snapped in two. Good thing he had a spare pair. A quiet knock from behind caught his attention.

Leaning against the doorframe was Tony, a mug of coffee in one hand and a rolled magazine in the other. His wild mess of black hair stuck out in all directions; either he slept extremely well or tossed and turned all night. The glow of his arc reactor was only amplified in the limited light, and his entire face was bathed in a blue hue. Bruce couldn't help but wonder how long he was there.

Sipping the steaming drink, Tony peeked over the brim of the mug, observing the doctor. Lowering the mug, he finally spoke. "Morning."

"…Morning." Bruce mumbled, catching the other's dark eyes. With his damaged glasses in hand, he took the opportunity to break eye contact, setting the spectacles on the dresser across the room.

Tony took a gander at the destroyed objects, and shrugged his shoulders. "This stuff can easily be replaced."

"I wasn't worried about the 'stuff'," Bruce sighed. He walked over to his dresser and stared wearily at his reflection in the mirror. Tony took another sip of his coffee, carefully watching the doctor. "I just got… scared is all. I could've hurt someone last night."

"But you didn't. It was just a night terror, Bruce. Yours just happen to be a bit more… animated."

"…You calmed me down."

"Well… yes." Sip. "You kept muttering something, this one line, something about it 'all burning'. Beats me what that could've meant. But you somehow heard me through all that chaos and eventually settled down. And look. No beatdown, no lost teeth. We're all fine. You can stop worrying now." Stepping away from the mirror, Bruce smiled. It was subtle, but still there. 

"I have been worrying less, you know; a lot of weight's been taken off my shoulders. But still… it—"

"Hey," Tony interrupted, "the first part was good enough. Don't ruin the moment." Suddenly, the billionaire shifted his weight and grimaced. Gripping the wall for support, he slowly turned, cussing under his breath. Bruce was immediately by his side, taking the cup and magazine. Silently, he helped Tony to the lounge room down the hall. 

He set the beverage and magazine on the coffee table and spoke, bitterness in his tone. "You're in more pain than you've led on."

Taking a seat, the billionaire buried his face in one hand. "Bruce. You know it's too early for this."

"You've been hiding it." The following silence had answered his question.

"Fine," Tony caved. "I do have… occasional pain. Who wouldn't? You're… you." Tony reached into his pocket, pulling out a small baggie with two pills inside. Reaching for his cup, he swallowed them, back to back. "But I don't hold it against you. If I couldn't take it, I'd still be in rehab." This didn't seem to placate the doctor; he was beginning to close himself off again. "Hm. Y'know, this is exactly why I kept quiet," Tony sighed. "What you're doing right now. You crucify yourself for every mistake you make." After a few moments of apparent consideration, the doctor's eyes softened, appearing no less contrite. They were a mixture of emotions and unspoken words. If ever there was a time the billionaire was stumped, it would be now. Tony was shameless, lived life unabashedly, whereas every second of the doctor's existence was filled with remorse. It had to be something bigger; the Other Guy couldn't be the root of all his problems. Pain ran deep… there was always something just below the surface... Something untold but known. Something unseen but felt. "…Why do you hate yourself?"

Bruce stiffened even more, nervously lacing his fingers together. "Seriously, Bruce," Tony pressed, "I want a straight answer from you."

The doctor scoffed. "That's a silly question." Still, he answered, very quietly. "I ended uo like my father." A rancorous smile tugged at his lips as he took a seat left of Tony. He leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling.

"Look, enough about me." Said Bruce. His voice was low with agitation. "I'm tired of talking about me."

But Tony wasn't. He knew he could fix Bruce, and he would. He was, after all, an engineer.  
Still, he had dropped the subject. "Fair enough." The two sat quietly, and for once, Tony was okay with that. There was no desire or even a need to speak. He only enjoyed the guilty pleasure of Bruce's company. Bruce's breaths grew progressively slower, more relaxed. Stealing a glance in his direction, it was then Tony realized the doctor's eyes were closed. Was he drifting off? "Bruce?"

"I'm just thinking," he smoothly replied.

Tony forced the curiosity down, though his eyes never left the pondering doctor.

"Stop that."

"Stop what?" The billionaire asked, befuddled.

"You're staring at me. You know I don't like it."

Tony obliged, turning his attention to his magazine. "Afraid I might figure out what you're thinking?" He teased.

"Yes."

A bit caught off guard, Tony stared blankly at the pages. "Can't help it. I just happen to read people very well."

"Yes," Bruce repeated, "and I don't like it." The doctor wet his lips and sighed. Finally opening his eyes, he glanced out a small window to the left of him, his face bathed in a brilliant gold. One couldn't deny the morning's radiant beauty. He hadn't been paying much attention to things like this. Nature and silence. For a long time, those two things had equaled peace for him. But it was changing, painfully and gradually. And it was terrible. It was wonderful. It was terribly wonderful. He wanted to preserve this fleeting feeling, yet he wanted to bury it. Forget it. He was the epitome of contradiction. Would that ever change? This safe haven, this sanctuary called Tony Stark was something he needed. But he knew this new sense of security would eventually break… So why was he still here? Why was he still playing this game?

"Why do you go out of your own way for me?" He asked.

"Why does anyone?" Tony retorted, casually flipping through the magazine. A few seconds later, he set the magazine down and turned to face the doctor. "You're asking a question that's already been answered." He leaned forward, eyes expectant and unwavering. Bruce hated that… but not really. Tony was the only person who could figure him out so easily. He could destroy what little boundaries the doctor had set… all with a simple look, or a few words. How does he do it? Perhaps that'd been his superpower all along. Whatever it was, it was working. It's been working since he met the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

"I'm just... so _sick_ of this life." The doctor's fingers trembled into a tight fist. "But I don't know how to live any other way. This… thing has been part of me for a long time now." The sunlight had revealed the brilliant color of his eyes as his attention once again turned to the window. Gathering his words, he drew in a deep breath and continued. "You're the only person in a long time who's accepted me completely from day one. And I'm always grateful for that." A force of habit, his hand wandered to his head, and his fingers combed through his slightly peppered hair. "You've been making things easier, and I'm... better around you. I want to stay better." His gaze fell to the billionaire, who squinted at him through inquisitive and playful eyes. The smile on his face had said enough.

"I take it then, that you're officially accepting my help?" The doctor cracked a smile as well, placing a hand on the billionaire's shoulder.

"Yeah, Tony. I guess I am."


	7. Giving Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony each have their own things they're sorting through. The more time they spend together, the more lines begin to blur. The doctor is confused in all this just as the engineer. Who, then, will be running away?

Another week and a half had passed, and any evidence of Bruce's unconscious 'fit' was long gone. It took less than an hour to repair the wall, and furniture was never a problem. The days that followed were smoother, easier. Tony was aware of how he felt. He just didn't give it any power. And so, things got better between him and Pepper. Things felt better. They ate out, they spoke, they smiled. They were close. He and Bruce even had a little routine. The two would meet up in the lab, talk science, and laugh a little. The doctor was even making an effort to open up a bit more. Not as much as Tony would like, but it was definitely a start. It was late afternoon, and the two were now partaking in their own individual studies, glancing at each other every so often.

"So," Tony began, looking over his shoulder, "I planned a little get-together with the team and was wondering if—"

"No. Thank you, but no," Bruce interrupted, gently swirling a flask of bluish solvent. "I'm busy."

"Oh? Enlighten me, doctor. With what exactly are you too busy that can't wait a few hours?"

The doctor turned around to find Tony silently reading him. "…I'm not exactly a socialite, Tony. You know that." He just wasn't ready for all that entailed. Explaining his long absence, the rampage just before he'd gone off the radar… It would be far more stressful than he was comfortable with. It was easy for Tony to overlook all that. 

Dark, analytical eyes met their brown, apprehensive counterparts. The engineer took two steps forward, his arms folded firmly over his chest. Giving the hardest of looks, he spoke. "I believe you're trying to bullshit me. It isn't working, though… Thought you should know that." 

The doctor removed his glasses, a soft smile masking his agitation. "I don't want to go. It's that simple." 

"That simple…" Tony repeated. His jaw tightened, but he pressed no further. "Alright." The engineer returned to his work, as did Bruce. The doctor was excessively stubborn, so much so that Tony was often tempted to strangle the truth out of him. How'd the saying go? Old habits die hard? Not like knowing that helped much. He stared blankly at his tools, wondering what was going on in the doctor's head.

Bruce carefully added the solute (his blood), a small exothermic reaction following. Bubbles rose far past the mouth of the flask, overflowing and pooling around the bottom of the glass. A quiet "damn it" escaped the doctor's lips as he searched frantically for something to clean it with. Amused, Tony said nothing, merely holding out a rag for Bruce to notice. "Tony, a little help. Is there a…? Oh. Thanks." 

Tony smiled. "Care to take a break from your project?" Bruce said nothing, staring straight ahead as he washed and dried his hands. Still silent, he leaned against the counter, leg crossed over the other, hands resting on the edge.

Intrigued, Tony stared on at the doctor. "Brooding again, Bruce?" The doctor glanced at him, a playful smile smoothing his features, though he remained silent.

Reaching for a small bag of sour gelatin candy, he popped one of them in his mouth. "I think I'll have that break now."

Tony arched a brow, head slightly cocked to the side. He maintained an air of aloofness, not giving too much away. He liked to keep up a few walls of his own. "Oh? Good."

Bruce sauntered over to Tony's side of the workspace, glancing over his work. Picking up a small, steel piece yet to be assembled, he stared closely at it. "When is this little reunion?" He inquired, eyes still set on the counter in front of him.

Tony glanced at his watch, shrugging. "Oh, I'd say in about… 3 hours."

The doctor stifled a small laugh, setting the metal object down. "Typical Tony." His voice lowered cautiously, his brown eyes briefly meeting the other's. "Why such short notice?"

The engineer smirked. "I'm spontaneous, Bruce. Unpredictable. It's what I do. Besides, since when does it take anyone three hours to get ready?" The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, lips pursed. He had an answer to everything.

Tony wasn't stupid. Bruce wanted to go. It wouldn't be forced, however. There was always next time. He stood across the counter from Bruce, soaking the moment in. Unaware, the doctor merely stared downward, eyes projecting a dichotomy of conscience. And so Tony quietly cogitated.

Every conflicting thought that ailed the man was meant to lay untouched and locked away. They'd been ignored, deprived of any attention for them to grow into more dangerous things. Soon, they would just stop altogether. They would die off. He was sure of it. But this entire time, they'd been tugging relentlessly against their shackles. He felt _too_ happy.

"You alright, Tony?"

"Fine." Tony said.

"I'll… take your word for it."

"Good call."

Silence followed. The air grew heavy with unspoken words and an undeniable tension. Neither were comfortable and neither attempted to speak first. It was déjà vu for the doctor. However, this time, the engineer's expression was blank. His defenses were raised for whatever reason, and once they were, they were impenetrable. Stark's eyes were unreadable; where casual jauntiness once was, stoicism had taken its place. Bruce stepped away, fingers laced together.

It was a little frustrating. For once, he wanted to know what the other was thinking. Tony could be such a hypocrite at times… He had created boundaries of his own, letting no one in except perhaps Pepper. Maybe that was enough.

…Or maybe Bruce was overthinking all of this. But despite his attempts at self-reassurance, something told him Tony was indeed troubled. Something told him he had been for some time now. He hadn't hidden it well enough. Bruce had done his best not to pry. But this was ongoing. The doctor removed his glasses from his pocket, placing them snuggly against the bridge of his nose.

Tony stared into space, subtleties of anger written on his face. He was bathed in the light of the early evening, said light changing in intensity as clouds drifted past. Abstract shapes of golden lumination danced across the tiled floor as the sun slowly sank below the horizon.

Bruce silently implored the other to speak, and still, quiet reigned. Just as Bruce opened his mouth, he was interrupted.

"Don't say anything. You've seen this before. I know. But this isn't anything serious." The doctor raised a brow in disbelief. Tony rolled his dark eyes, brows furrowed. "I'm fine. Don't believe me? That's on you."

Bruce leaned slightly forward, not intending on letting up. "Yeah, I guess it is. But that's the wonderful thing about not wanting to put a bullet in my own head anymore: I know when something's not right with people. It's your turn to open up."

"…Okay, Bruce, get out."

"I'm sorry?"

"Your ears are fine, don't pretend they aren't. Please exit the lab, and do so with urgency."

"May I ask why?"

"Good question. No you may not."

Head slightly tilted in confusion, the doctor acquiesced and headed for the door. It was Tony's lab, after all. He took a final glance at the engineer, eyes burning with unadulterated confusion. The door shut tightly behind him, and as soon as it did, the muffled sound of music reached his ears.

He stood outside the lab, leaning against the wall, which vibrated ever so slightly.

The man truly was unpredictable.

…

30 minutes later…

There was no denying it anymore. He was falling for his introverted counterpart. Yes… falling. Tony had mustered up enough courage to acknowledge it for what it was. He'd hidden it exceptionally well, even from himself. But in the end, his efforts to suppress these feelings had been for naught. When he pushed, they pushed back… and with vigor. They'd only gotten stronger from their time in limbo.

He admitted, kicking the doctor out was a bit out of character, but it had to be done. He needed to be alone. Just him, his thoughts, and his music.

As usual, the man was unaware of what he was doing. It was unspeakable torture. Each word spoken, each small spark of his authentic self… it would draw the billionaire further in. And for that, he was somewhat pissed at Bruce. Irrational, yes, but the blame had to be placed somewhere; the doctor's ignorance wouldn't get in the way of that. It was a given that Bruce would eventually discover some of the billionaire's flaws. He already has. He wasn't perfect. About as far from it as one could be, despite appearances. He was tearing at the seams, ever so slowly, and soon he would slip up altogether. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out when that would be. But the more he stuck by Bruce's side, the more this unwanted attraction would emerge. He was bringing this upon himself. If closeness was the problem, distance had to be the solution.

Tony glanced to his left.

In nearly every room, there was a mini bar. That was the beautiful thing about this tower. Grabbing a bottle of brandy from the mini-fridge, he sat in a nearby swivel chair. He poured some into a fair-sized glass and drank. The alcohol went down smooth, its mild and residual burn taming him. It wasn't the answer, he knew that, but he took comfort in knowing that it could put his mind at ease, if only for a little while.

He inhaled deeply, staring into the dark liquid in his glass.

Temporary amnesia.

…

Bruce sipped at his chamomile concoction, staring into space. He was alone, accompanied only by silence. Anxiety had reared its fear-mongering head once again, but he found it easier to cope with. Alone didn't feel so… alone. Still, these thoughts came almost periodically, and he'd done a good job keeping it to himself. Really, it was all about information. Information he wasn't quite comfortable to share, at least not yet. He wanted to enjoy this fresh new mentality. Still, flashes of his cynical self ran across his mind, and his grip tightened considerably around his mug. A pang of fear stabbed at his chest, and he didn't flinch. It only wanted attention. Attention he wouldn't give.

It clung to him, and he shook it off. He glanced at his watch. 7:48. Tony would be leaving soon. He was tempted to join him…

The doctor stood, his mug now empty. He washed it, found a loose jacket and headed for outside, per the new, freer tower protocol.

The air was crisp with an early autumn breeze and the sky clear, dotted with distant heavenly bodies. Beautiful. He meandered around the block, glancing absently at the conglomerate of stores and shops that lined the streets. Even at this time, the city was still bustling with people, all with somewhere to go, somewhere to be. A never-ending hustle, living a life of distraction and disconnect. It wasn't something he could appreciate. Then again, at least these people knew where they were going, where they were headed. He had little, if any, sense of direction in his life. He wanted to change. He told Tony this. He told himself this.

And still, he held himself back.

He found himself standing in front of a psychic reading center. Amused, he smiled. He hardly believed in this kind of thing, but perhaps he would humor 'the fates' just this once. He pushed the door open, a gentle chime alerting his entrance. The lighting was soft and not overbearing, a great contrast from the city lights. The air smelled of freshly burned incense and sage. Pleasing to the senses and the mind.

"Hello, dear." Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin. In front of him stood a short, older woman. She wore loose-fitting attire, with patterns that seemed to dance as she moved. Each arm was adorned with bracelets of various crystals and wood. Her graying and coarse hair was pulled neatly into a bun, revealing a face of subtle wrinkles. The woman smiled, the expression easily reaching her intense smoky gray eyes.

He returned the gesture, head bowed ever so slightly. "Oh, sorry. I was just taking this in for a moment."

"No need to apologize, darling. I've been expecting a visitor for some time now. Was growing a bit impatient, actually." She chuckled. "My name is Isis, and you are…" she took his hand in hers, "David."

The doctor nearly cringed at the name. "…I prefer to be called Bruce." His discomfort was less than concealed. "Oh, I see…" Isis nodded with understanding eyes. "Bruce it is."

She led him to small room, lit only by soft candlelight. A few feet into the room was a table, only about a foot high. Draped over it was satin cloth, which spilled gracefully into the dark plush carpet. A small candle in the center illuminated the area. Isis gestured for him to sit. "Please, make yourself comfortable. A relaxed mind leads to a clearer, more concise reading." And so the doctor obliged. The subtle scent of lavender reached his nose, calming him further. He adored lavender. It was one of his favorite scents. Isis joined him, a small smile lightening her features. Once more, she took his hands in hers. "Alright, Bruce, shall we begin?" The doctor nodded.

"Y'know, most people have it all wrong. Everyone's 'psychic' in one way, shape, or form. Those so-called 'psychics' out there are merely attuned to their innate abilities. But one doesn't have to be 'attuned' to know that you are in pain." Bruce said nothing. "And let me guess. You don't like to talk about your pain."

"No, I guess not," the doctor sighed. Eyes closed, the woman took a deep and slow breath. "That won't do, Bruce. I sense confusion in your psyche as well." She ran her fingers across his palm. "Your hands speak volumes of your past. These lines, cuts, and creases all tell a story. You desire so many answers, yet you do not fight for them. Just as you so adamantly fight yourself, you must apply that same passion into getting what you so desire."

Isis opened her eyes once more. "Hm… I sense someone else. This person can be rather ostentatious at times. Abrasive, overconfident… Yet this person is also very special. This person keeps you grounded."

"You could say that, yes."

"Well then, I say you stick with this person. This person truly loves you, and will only help to elevate you." At that, Bruce stiffened, but he thought nothing more of it.

Isis smiled cheekily, saying nothing more on the subject. "Uh-huh… Your Life Line"—she pointed to the line that traces his inner palm—"indicates something rather pleasant may happen in the near future. What exactly, I cannot say, as 'pleasant' could mean many things. This is to be determined by yourself." She lifted her gaze, peeking at her client. He seemed more tense than when he first sat down. A slight grimace darkened her features. "You have homework, Bruce. You need to be persistent. You need to be more open. You need to relax. The rest will follow." The doctor nodded, not quite sure what to believe. He was still by all means a skeptic, though he had to admit what she said hit pretty close to home. Perhaps the "better attuned" were not as fraudulent as people made them out to be.

"Isis," he began, chuckling sheepishly. He felt absolutely ridiculous. "I uh, I have a question."

"Go on ahead. We still have 2 minutes."

"I have a feeling this… person of mine has issues of his own. He refuses to let me help him the way he's helped me. Do you see him ever…?"

"Confiding in you? If Tony could, darling, Tony would. But he feels he can't… or shouldn't."

"How did—"

The woman smiled. "How do you think? I knew this was eventually going to lead up to Mr. Tony Stark. Charming man, he is."

The doctor ignored the woman's dreamy drivel, concern overpowering the calm atmosphere. "Is it dire? His situation, I mean."

"It certainly is dire for him, I'll say that much." A hint of a smirk tugged at the woman's lips. "I sense that he's… figuring a lot of things out." She glanced upward at a clock on the wall, humming softly in recognition "It looks like this session is over, Bruce. And don't worry about paying; the first is always free." The doctor's mouth was ajar, filled with unasked questions. The older woman handed him a card. "If you ever want to speak again, set up an appointment. Save those questions until then, hm?" Her gray eyes searched his for any promise of his return. To her delight, it seemed likely. "Perhaps next time, you'll be open and willing enough for me to help heal your past wounds. It would do you a lot of good."

The doctor tucked the card in his pocket and pulled his jacket on, mulling over what was said. "Thank you, Isis, for your time. Maybe there will be a next time." He certainly hoped so. The answers here weren't definite, but at least he felt he was getting somewhere. Isis led him to the exit, waving him goodbye. When he was far enough away, she chuckled,

"Ah, geez. He doesn't have a clue."


	8. The Paradox of Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrong sometimes feels right. But what, then, is wrong? Is it the act, or the feeling that follows? Banner has been tolerating Stark's odd behaviors long enough, and he needs resolution. Now Tony's the one with all the questions, and though the reunion takes his mind off things for a while, it was never to be a permanent fix. But he can think of one thing to make it better...

"You fiend."

"Why, thank you."

"Pray tell, how is it that you manage to trump my every move?"

"I dunno, guess it's all in the wrist."

"…That's odd, I thought this game to be one of skill."

"And I thought by now you would've learned not to take what I say so seriously." Thor's naivety knew no bounds.

Thor and Tony were having a game of holographic chess, courtesy of Tony. The images hovered above a thin and portable projector, and for the demigod, it was… interesting. Undoubtedly, it took some getting used to.

"Check." Tony pointed to his bishop and smirked, amused at his friend's irritation.

"I truly believe this game is rigged for failure."

"Yeah. Your failure."

The blonde demigod stood. "I will play this no longer. What say you and I have a sparring match?" He smirked, folding his arms. "Let us then see who the better man is." The billionaire stood as well, hands raised in defense. "Hey, you have your brawn, I have my brains and brawn. No big deal."

Everyone was gathered in a reserved lounge, dressed fairly casually. Natasha was conversing with Steve in the corner, the two completely engaged. Seems their relationship was picking up. Clint sipped casually at his glass of red wine, expression unreadable. He hadn't realized his firm grip on the upholstery beneath him, or that his glances at the soldier and spy grew progressively more frequent.

"Your snarky remarks never cease to irritate me, Tony Stark."

Tony shrugged. "What can I say? I like to do a thorough job. But enough about me and my amazing work ethic," he stood as well, retrieving a small holo-projector from the table, "how're things in Asgard?" The demigod spoke briefly of the unfortunate events that took place there some time ago. Tragedy was never far away.

The Asgardian's blue eyes immediately softened. "The loss of my brother and mother still weighs heavy on my heart, but Asgard fairs well. We will rebuild from the ashes as Mother would have wished. What of the rest of you?" He turned to the other three Avengers.

All shared the expression of having seen better days. But that was fine. Things were still settling down. Everyone was coping. Each had their share of dark days, and this was their chance to be human about it. Or… as human as an Asgardian, two high-ranking spies, a soldier, and a genius could be.

The stoic Natasha was the first to speak. "My missions so far have been excruciatingly simple. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wouldn't mind another alien invasion." Her dry humor fell upon untrained ears.

"Be careful what you wish for, 'Tasha," Clint chimed in, "with our luck, we just might get one."

"I'd say I've had my fill." Steve added, clenching and unclenching his fist. "A good break is in order, considering this past year alone." For once, Tony agreed with him. The world seemed to need them more than ever. The group chatted on for a long while.

Later…

Tony made it back to the Tower. It was nice to see the others under more normal circumstances. He leaned against the wall of the elevator, eyes set on the floor. Jarvis notified him of the time, insisting that he get some rest. But he somehow knew that sleep would be a difficult thing to get tonight. The doors opened with a quiet ding, and he stepped out on the 94th floor.

He needed a drink. A good one.

Switching the lights on, he found a glass, setting it on the counter in front of him.

It was funny, what alcohol could do to people. It made some giddy. It made others bitter and others still into utter messes. But for Tony, the intoxicating drink quieted his mind. It made him calm. It made him somewhat dependent on its effects. Alcohol had been an issue for him long before he met the people he knew today. It had gotten better over the years, his new life closing a few dark chapters of his past. He'd hidden it well behind his many ruses, but there were times when he just needed his mind to go blank.

He picked his poison. He poured it into the glass. He drank to forget.

A soft sigh passed his lips as he took his first sip. Letting go was easy. That was never the problem. Coming back from it was the difficult part.

To the public eye, he had some semblance of collectedness; he liked to tell himself that, too. Even Pepper wasn't entirely aware of his internal conflictions. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the counter.

"Jarvis. Music."

_"Sir, I strongly advise you to refrain from further—"_

"Music." After a few seconds, the AI complied.

Satisfied, the billionaire shut his eyes as he brought the glass to his lips a second time. One pour quickly turned into two. Then three. Everything mattered a little less now. He wasn't Tony. He wasn't Mr. Stark. He wasn't Iron Man. He was just Anthony. He could truly think.

"Dim the lights. Eighty percent."

As the lights faded, the pale light of the moon filtered modestly through the curtains of a cracked window. A satisfying buzz filled the man's head, and he resisted another sip. This was the perfect time to stop. He couldn't be completely inebriated. He wouldn't be able to enjoy this. Putting the drink away for another day, he took a seat and simply listened to the music. It wasn't long before he was moving with the rhythm, his head unabashedly bobbing up and down. Then the music stopped.

_"Sir."_ The AI's voice was more insistent. Sigh.

"Yes, Jarv?"

_"The doctor seems to be having… complications again. I suggest you remedy the issue. Or will you disregard that as well?"_

"Sass? From you? This is new."

_"Hardly, Sir. You programmed me this way."_

"I did, didn't I? Remind me to kick myself later."

_"I believe you are stalling, Sir."_

Damn right he was. He knew the moment he saw the doctor that familiar sinking feeling would return, nauseating him. And more importantly, it would ruin his buzz.

Still, he had to go.

…But not without another drink.

…

_The Other Guy—Bruce—had done it again. Green ate at him… swallowed his skin, consumed his mind, his sense of control. Everything was rubble at his feet, anonymous joys reduced to sorrow. He had an audience to his destruction… Everyone he had hurt, everyone he feared he would hurt. They stared up at him unwaveringly, with such contempt. Their haunting faces… He remembered every one._  
_"You think you can change?" A voice chimed from behind. No. Anyone but her. An external force brought him to turn around and face a woman he hadn't seen in a decade_

_"Betty… I never wanted—"_

_"—You're a coward, Bruce, always running from your mess. Just like your father." Her words cut deep, voice sweet and venomous. Strong as he was, even he hadn't the will to close his ears. It was true. He knew it was true. An ocean of betrayed eyes stared at him almost expectantly._  
_Burning. Everything burned away, but their glare remained. ** "Look at your good work.** Just look and tell me I'm wrong, Bruce. Bruce… Bruce?"_

"Bruce." The man lunged forward, gasping. His eyes opened wide, a small spell of dizziness following. Glancing around, he found himself on the couch, fingers digging into the leather material. Temples beaded with sweat, he loosened his grip, blinking away grogginess. When had he fallen asleep? He looked to his right. There Tony stood, glass of alcohol in hand. "You have a bedroom, you know."

"I'm aware." Bruce replied shakily, rolling his neck. Glancing at his watch, he raised a brow. About 4 hours had passed since his little excursion. "I don't remember dozing off."

"Jarvis detected the usual unusual. Nights still difficult?" Tony brought the glass to his lips.

"Yes. But I'll manage." The doctor stood and stepped away, stealing a curious glance in Tony's direction. "How did it go?"

"Pretty good. Steve and Natasha seem to be getting good and cozy as of late, Thor's hanging in there, Clint's still Clint. But apparently we all need a break from the hero thing. Too bad that kind of thing's out of our hands."

Bruce shrugged a shoulder. "It all comes with the territory. Besides, you love the attention."

"A lot of people think that." Tony took another sip, briefly catching the other's gaze. "A lot of people are wrong." A long pause.

"Really? I never pegged you as the introverted type."

"Uh, no, that's your department. I'm just a man who very much likes his sanity and intends to keep it."

"Understandable. Still, that public face of yours is impeccable."

"I know." Tony downed the rest of the drink. His tongue flicked across his lips and his gaze darkened. Without another word, he turned and headed for the exit.

"Since you're here I might as well ask if your issues are now worth talking about."

Tony froze. "…No more questions, Bruce."

"I'll take that as a 'no'." The doctor took a few cautious steps forward. "Whatever it is, Tony, just—talk about it to someone. Anyone."

"Sure. That's what I'll do."

"I'm serious. You've been—" The billionaire finally turned to face him, a look of mild rage leaving Bruce in slight shock.

"Look. I'm asking you in plain English to let it go. So let it go."

Lidded, dark eyes stared into Bruce's, lacking their usual intensity. The scent of rum carried through the air, tipping him off to just how much the other had been drinking. "That's a bad idea."

The billionaire knowingly glanced at the empty glass in his hand. "We all have our share of unhealthy practices, Doctor. As long as it works it's fine by me."

"Is it?" The doctor queried.

"Is it what?"

"Working."

"Not anymore." Tony rolled his eyes, resignation slowly replacing aggravation. "You ruined it."

"I… 'ruined' it." The doctor repeated incredulously. A tired smile spread on his face as he mindlessly toyed with the cuff of his shirt. Tony was definitely out of it. "I doubt it was my fault."

"You doubt wrong."

"Well, that could certainly be different, now couldn't it?"

Tony blinked, seeming to marinate on their little back and forth. For the longest of moments, he stared through Bruce, almost ignoring the entire fact that he was there. Then he stepped forward. Directly in front of the other, he sighed, his furrowed brow betraying his otherwise unbothered countenance. He rested a hand on the other's shoulder, finally meeting his gaze. "Bruce… I'm afraid, alright? I admit it. This is nothing Pepper knows about. This is nothing anyone knows about. I don't know where the hell this is coming from and I don't know why." Bruce remained silent, not quite following. "All this? The frustration, the aggression, the drinking? You make me do it. I shove you away so I can think. So I can understand—" Tony paused and stepped away mid-sentence.

"Why'm I even explaining… I can't do this."

"I, uh… I don't follow."

The billionaire shifted his weight to his good leg, examining his glass disappointedly before setting it down on an accent table. "Of course you don't, Doctor. This is me, drunk and out of my wits. I'm not making any sense right now."

"You're making some sense, surprisingly. What exactly are you trying to understand?"

Time seemed to demand attention through the quiet ticking of Bruce's watch. It was an expectant and almost mocking sound. Tony wanted to throw the damn thing out of the window.

"…It's fine, Tony. I'll leave it alone." The doctor raised a dismissive hand, turning to retrieve his glasses resting on a nearby countertop.

"No," The other finally jumped in, "it's not fine with me. I'm not letting this bother me more than it already has. Look…" He took a step forward. "There're some things I've been… grappling with recently. Involving you." The doctor turned, eyes narrowed with a curious look. Tony sighed, the alcohol finally loosening his tongue. "Remember the time I said I was fond of you? I may've underestimated just how 'fond' I am." The perplexed expression on the other's face only made him smile. There was no point in stopping now. "Not the answer you were expecting? Me neither. Of course, there's a problem here, having… strong feelings for two people at once." It was Bruce's turn to smile. "You're joking, right?"

"Sure, Banner. I'm joking." Tony stepped closer, eye to eye with the other. There wasn't a hint of humor in the man's gaze.

The smile on the doctor's face quickly faded, hands searching for something to do. He tore his gaze downward, wiping imaginary dust off the lens of his glasses. "I don't know what to make of this, Tony." He really didn't. He didn't want to believe it, either. But it… made sense. If he looked up, he would see it. That glint in Tony's eyes. Thinking back, he'd seen it a couple of times during his stay. Now he knew what it meant. But he didn't deserve that look. The billionaire snatched the spectacles from his hands, putting them up to the light. "Seem clean to me. Keep at it and you're gonna pop a lens out."

Bruce frowned. "I should go."

"You should stay." Tony handed back the glasses. "I said what was on my mind. It's your turn." The doctor said nothing, rigid as a pole. "What? Fair is fair. What're you afraid of all of a sudden?"

"…I'm afraid you're going to do something you'll regret."

"Yeah?" Tony stopped inches from the other's face.

"You don't know what you're doing."

"Not my fault."

"Tony—" The billionaire's lips pressed gently against his, silencing him. The doctor was paralyzed, arms hovering over the other's shoulders. He saw it coming. He could've moved. His eyes shut. He could be moving right now. But he was… enjoying this. His lips moved against Tony's, much to his objection.

He shouldn't be enjoying this.

The moment was brief, cut short. Tony quickly pulled away, realization filling his eyes with disbelief and shock. "…I'm sorry." Avoiding the doctor's gaze, he turned and left.

Bruce didn't stop him.


	9. Enlighten Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustration permeates the hearts of these two geniuses now. Tony did a stupid thing, and Bruce went along with it. Now they both know without knowing just what has settled between them. But there isn't time to think about all that just yet... Tony has business to take care of.

Bruce pursed his lips in thought, still and silent. He just wanted to know one thing:

Why?

What was Tony thinking? The man was jeopardizing the beautiful relationship he already had. He wanted too much. Bruce learned very quickly not to want. Certain things were just unattainable. Off limits. And yet when it happened the physicist didn't do a thing.

…What was _he_ thinking?

"Way to take hold of the situation, Banner," he muttered to himself, finally making a move for his room. _ Wooed by your half-drunk friend…_

He couldn't _wait_ to see Tony when he sobered up.

…

Once he made it to his wardrobe, Tony tore out of his suit, changing into something much more comfortable. Beads of sweat ran idly down his temple; he was hot, from both the liquor and his nerves. Donning a gray tank top and black sweats, he made his way to the top floor and stood outside on the elongated platform. The air provided relief for now, gently combing its fingers through his dark hair. He smiled, but he wasn't amused.

He should've just ignored the doctor and kept walking.

He was surprised Bruce didn't at least punch him. Hell, even a sidestep would have sufficed. But the doctor did nothing. In fact, Tony noticed the doctor leaning into the kiss. He had more secrets than he led on.

"Dammit, Bruce," he sighed, _ where the hell do you stand?_

He shakily exhaled. The chill was getting to him, but he didn't want to go back in. Not for a while. His face was once again bathed in a familiar blue as he looked down. Lights and sounds filled the streets just as they did during the day. Nothing slowed down. Hardly anything stopped, and if it did, it was never for long.

At one point, he thought he could be that for the world, a hero without an off switch. But he soon found out even he needed to take a breather. Masks had to be removed at some point. In that same regard, he was reaching his proverbial limit with the doctor. He couldn't stand being kept out of the loop. Something had to give.

...

Later…

"Doctor."

"…Stark."

"Sleep through the night?"

"I did. You?"

"…I slept."

The downward lurch of the elevator made both feel lighter than normal.

They ran into one another a bit… soon.

Bruce was dressed for a late morning excursion, a windbreaker hanging from his forearm and a small umbrella in his other hand. The other, however, seemed to be doing the opposite. Toolbox in gloved hand, the engineer was headed for the lower section of the Tower. He'd moved a few of his projects down there, since there were more tools and material to work with. A brief glance. A long stare in the other direction. "Guess I'll be the one to say it," Tony spoke up. "We need to talk. Preferably soon."

"I agree."

"Glad you do. I have a lot to answer for. And so do you."

"…I'm not denying it."

Tony leaned against the elevator wall, looking to the tersely articulated doctor. Bruce's lips formed a thin line, his brown eyes fixed downward. They soon met Tony's, quickly moving on to something less… grabbing. "Tony, I don't—"

Ding.

The elevator stopped on the 37th floor. "Later." Tony insisted. The doors opened. The doors closed. Bruce was left alone with his thoughts.

…

2 hours later…

"How's the work coming along, hon?" Pepper stood alongside Tony, watching him as he worked.

"Artificial gravity field's almost up and running. Just gotta add this last piece…" He attached a small magnetic sphere to the core of the suit and activated it. Pressing a button on his wristband, the suit disassembled and engulfed him, reassembling quickly and flawlessly around his body. "Alright. Let's see some results." Pepper watched as he approached a wall and proceeded to walk along it. It took a moment to adjust, but he moved just the same as he would on the ground. He jumped and fell towards the wall's surface, satisfied. Spiderman, eat your heart out.

"Jarv, any strain on the field?"

_"None detected, Mr. Stark. The field overpowers the earth's gravity by 3.8 g. It should perform optimally in outer space."_

"That's what I like to hear." The engineer jumped once more, pressing another button on his armored wrist, deactivating the device in midair. He landed on the tiled floor without any problem or strain (the suit protected his bad leg from further damage). "Next order of business," he lowered his faceplate, "How'm I breathing?"

_"Air pressure and quality is excellent. Oxygen: 100%. Armor sealed tight and heavily insulated. You're breathing quite comfortably, Sir."_

"That's another thing I like to hear. A couple more tweaks and we'll be ready for a test drive."

_"Indeed."_

A soft hand caressed the engineer's clean-shaven face as soon as the faceplate lifted. "You're amazing."

"I know. So are you." The two shared a quick kiss. But it burned. Tony ignored it.

With a verbal command, the suit detached itself from his body, retrieved piece by piece by the now open floor. "I'm 'nna take five. Join me in the gym?"

"Sure thing."

…

Damp curls stuck to the doctor's forehead, small droplets balancing precariously on their ends. He was a bit slow opening the umbrella. The wind didn't help. But he didn't really mind. He actually welcomed it. It was a very therapeutic… and expressive work of nature. Sometimes it came down warm and comforting. Other times, it fell accompanied by the kiss of sunlight. But right now, it was steady and cool. Calm. Nothing like that night. Everything about that night was… cold. He hadn't felt cold quite like that since then. Brown eyes scanned the sky. The rain wouldn't last long. Patches of blue punctured the blanket of gray above, promising a clear day by afternoon. And hopefully by then, he'd have cleared his mind, too. The fog of confusion loomed heavily over his head. Bruce knew himself very well. He was a feeler. Always has been. But even he wasn't quite sure what to feel then. Ashamed? Like an idiot? Nothing at all? Perhaps everything combined.

The rain came down a little harder now.

…

A small towel hung loosely around Tony's shoulders. He sat still and quietly on a bench, waiting for his breathing to slow. His bare torso bore the familiar arc reactor, along with a few, more recent scars. A black brace supported his left leg, a long and deep scar running from thigh to shin.

Tony reached for the chilled bottle of water beside him, pressing it against his forehead before guzzling it.

Pepper stood across the gym, stretching her deltoids. Strands of hair fell around her face while the rest was pulled into a sloppy ponytail. She looked very inviting. "I say you can do 40 more crunches."

"I could've also done 40 less." His core burned with the slightest movement, as did the rest of his torso. Maybe he'd gone a little overboard. For once, his leg was in the least amount of discomfort. The pain faded slowly as the months passed by, but that limp would stay with him for quite a while.

Bruce got him good.

Then again, what could he expect from the half-panicked, half-enraged doctor? He pushed quite a few of his buttons that day. Dug up quite a few memories that were best left buried. He remembered nothing but searing pain once it was over. Pepper sat next to him, placing her hand over his.

"What's on your mind?"

"Not much."

"What's 'not much'?"

He smiled. "A funny thought. Looks like I'm slowly becoming Iron Man inside as well as out."

The woman couldn't find the humor in that. It was one of her daily worries… That Tony would grow completely dependent on machines… To move. To think. To live. "Iron Man should only ever be your outer shell. You lose yourself any other way."

"I think it's always been a part of me. It has to be, to do what we do as heroes. It took a blast to the chest to figure it out, but hey, a lot came from it." The billionaire turned to look at her. "I'm doing some real good after years and years of standing behind the death industry. And I'm only gonna do better. The prices I pay matter less and less as time goes on. I don't want you to worry."

"You know I always do."

"…I know."

…

_"You seem a bit anxious today, Mr. Stark."_

"Just jitters before blast off, Jarv. I'll get over it."

He'd been holding off on this project. What took 4 weeks to complete, he could very well have done in a few short days. When motivated, he was a very efficient worker. But cold, dead space was a touchy subject for him.

_"Perhaps it also pertains to your recent regression into excessive drinking, Sir."_

"Perhaps it does. Sue me."

_"Quite frankly, any repercussions you face will be of your own doing. I certainly hope, however, that breaking point will never be reached."_

"Fine, Jarv. I'll toss all my booze. Turn over a new leaf. Will you be happy then?"

_"Will you?"_

Dark brows furrowed incredulously. "Yeah. I will. But let's not play 'therapist and patient' right now. Besides," the suit secured itself around his body, the life support system attached at the back, "only I get to be the therapist."

70 minutes later…

_"We are now approaching the stratosphere."_

The suit's jets were on maximum burn, and Tony kept his gaze forward. His last trip to the vacuum was a lot less… pleasant. This was alright. This was doable. He just had to keep telling himself that. The further he went, the more he wanted to touch back down, though he knew the armor wasn't faulty. The Sun's radiation couldn't affect him. The air was more than breathable. Communication was clear and static-free. But for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't safe. It was irrational, he knew that. Anxiety could do that to a person. But he'd get through it. He always did. The empty husk of a once-pristine shuttle hovered in plain sight, and the engineer smiled past his trepidation. "Jarv, power up the field. It's time for the real test."

_"My pleasure, Mr. Stark."_

The arc reactor glowed brightly, illuminating the worn surface of the hull. A concentrated laser beam sliced through its thick metal frame with ease, allowing entry. Large and frayed cables littered the floor, and evidence of combustion blackened the surrounding walls. From what he was told, the craft held valuable information yet to be decrypted. Whatever data Jarvis collected would be as harmless as any classified information could be. Or so he would like to think. SHIELD knew Tony was very capable of finding out what he wanted to know. But the billionaire and the agency had been on fairly good terms for a little over two years now, so there was no need for that. There hadn't been much deviation from any assigned mission. Much. SHIELD adjusted to it, albeit reluctantly. The job was done either way. Once located, the information was extracted and downloaded into a small chip similar to the one he used on the Helicarrier. Tony relayed his progress to Pepper via radio transmission and took his leave. Jetting across the vacuum, he looked back at the worn structure. The shuttle eventually had to be dismantled, and he'd likely have a hand in that.

…

Reentering the atmosphere was a very… jostling experience. Though Tony correctly followed the course home, the flight was a lot bumpier than imagined. The coolant systems were on overdrive, and he thankfully sustained no burns. The suit held its own very well, suffering only a heated exterior. The rain helped a bit. Still, the engineer didn't look forward to the next trip. For now, he was glad that things such as planets to land on existed, and tomorrow, he was to give the information to SHIELD. Greeted with a hug and congratulated by his longest supporter, he believed he earned some down time. He stood where he did the previous night, letting the rain pelt him as it would. He just had to feel that for a second. Eventually, whatever anxieties he had fell with the rain, and he could watch it from the inside of the Tower.

"Hon, you're soaked! Wouldn't a pool have been better?" Pepper joked, grabbing him from behind.

"Oh, well. Too late for that, I guess."

"You did great up there. Wanna talk about what it was like?"

"Oh, you know, a bunch of nothing here, a bunch of nothing there."

Pepper rolled her eyes. "Yep, space is a vacuum, after all." Running her hand through his damp hair, she smiled. "You know what I meant. How did it feel?"

"Honestly? It was an eye opener. All that empty space out there. All the more reason to protect our little blue pearl."

She hugged him tighter, chuckling. "Couldn't help but add a little heroic spiel in there, I see."

"You're gonna be cold with those damp clothes, hon."

"They'll dry."

With a warm smile, he rested his hands on hers. This closeness was wanted, but it also ate away at him. He would block it out, acknowledging only the comforts. And it would work… for a time. This feeling was being shared, and it was beginning to take its toll. He drew in a sharp breath, stepping away from the woman's willing embrace. "Standing in the rain wasn't such a good idea. I'm gonna hit the shower."

…

Bruce turned Isis's card over and over in his hand. She probably knew exactly what he was doing right now. It was still hard to believe. She practically told him what he found out hours later. He just didn't see it at the time. Or he just didn't want to see it. Blind eyes have nothing to fear. It was always safer that way, for anyone. But the blindness could only ever be temporary. He walked past the psychic's building, heading to the diner a few blocks down. He'd saved a hefty few thousand dollars as a doctor overseas, and he used it very sparingly. But even that couldn't last more than a year. He'd been looking for a new job at a lab and was successful, and was only waiting to hear back. Things were definitely looking up. Now if they could stay that way...

The rain lightened until it eventually stopped. Closing and shaking his umbrella dry, he looked up at the sky once more. Half an hour earlier, he silently congratulated Tony on making it to space and back, watching as a bright orange streak jetted across the sky and to the Tower. He had a… cautious curiosity about the emptiness above. He'd actually entertained the notion of being shot up into space, left alone with no one to hurt. No air to breathe. But that was a thought he seldom, if at all, returned to now. He approached the diner.

…

The billionaire wiped excess water from his face as he stared into the mirror. God, he was tired. But he always worked best with minimal sleep. The headache was finally getting to him as well. He subdued it for a few hours, but it came back stronger. Thankfully, the rest of the day was his. He hadn't thought much about how he was going to spend it. He didn't want to. Today would be taken as it was given. Swallowing the painkillers in his hand, he got dressed and headed to the lounge room.

"Could use a massage," he sighed to himself. Maybe he'd set up an appointment soon. Maybe a nice, painful appointment, joint cracking and all. Just a minor punishment for the way he's acted. He frowned, suddenly in need of a drink. He shook his head, heading to the mini fridge. That drink would be water. Taking the bottle, Tony sat down, pulling out his phone.

_**To:**_ **Bruce**

_**Lounge room. 96th floor. Capisce?**_

The billionaire took a moment to stare at the pending text, chin in hand. Bruce better have his phone on him. Pressing 'send', he grabbed a magazine yet to be read, flipping through the tabloids. The paparazzi hadn't been on his case for months. They had to be planning something elaborate. He'd be ready. Just when he got to the good stuff, the phone came to life, a short, catchy tune breaking the silence. That was fast.

_**Bruce:**_

_**Got it. Be there shortly.**_

Tony gave a small frown. Bruce and his ambiguity. "Be there in an hour" would've been nice. "Be there in two hours" would've been better. But… No. This elephant was not only in the room, it was sitting right on his chest. He couldn't exactly recall when things had changed. It just... happened. God, he wished it could un-happen.

…

"So you know now." Isis smiled, gazing curiously into Bruce's eyes. "I can see how others have touched a person, emotionally, spiritually, mentally. You're no different."

"I don't suppose there's a better way of letting me know I'm being followed."

"I wasn't following. Not really. Your aura just caught my attention."

"…My aura. Let me guess. Is it green?"

"It's a deep red, actually."

He really didn't want to see her right now. But 'fate' must've driven them to bump into each other as he left the diner. "Oh, deep red. That's nice. Not to cut you off, Isis, but I have to go."

"I think you mean you want to run."

"Sure." Isis looked on as the doctor walked briskly ahead. Shaking her head, the older woman followed after him.

"I thought we had a little… connection, no?"

Coming to his sense, he stopped, as did the woman.

"...Sorry. That was pretty rude. I suppose I just had a bit of a relapse." Gaze set forward, he quietly added, "And to answer your question, yes. I know now. It's all a bit surreal."

"Hm. Might you believe in the saying 'ignorance is bliss'?" It was her turn to walk ahead. "In any case, reach out when you are ready," she called back, "we'll see if anything's changed. All things in due time, after all." She turned and disappeared on the next block. Bruce paused, stared, then continued walking. Well then. Another immaculate reading from Isis. He'd better learn to get used to it.

…

"Well, you're here." Tony sighed, body language open and relaxed.

"That I am."

The two sat across from each other, one staring out the window and the other at the floor. Security was manually lowered in the room; Tony made it his business that nothing that was said could be documented.

Gathering his words, the billionaire finally looked at the doctor. "I have this crazy theory, Bruce. I think you've been hiding more things than you care to let on."

Bruce looked up, raising a brow. "That's astute of you, Tony. I hide a lot of things. And it seems the same can be said for you."

"Yeah." Drumming his fingers on the armrest, he continued. "I like you, Bruce. That much was made clear last night. Sober as I am now, I've finally mustered the pluck to call it what it is. Can you?"

The doctor laced his fingers together, expression cautious. "That's why we're here, isn't it?" He straightened in his seat, almost rigid. "How long…?" He knew he didn't have to finish the sentence.

"If I were to make an educated guess, I'd say the potential may've been growing for a year or two. What about you?"

"I… think you've got the wrong idea about me," he tried. "You and I experienced last night's… incident very differently."

"Oh?" Tony eyed the other knowingly. "But here's the thing: I wasn't so mind-bogglingly drunk that I couldn't tell you were reciprocating. Now you answer my question."

The doctor smiled a small, crooked smile, really trying to wrap his head around all this. "In all honesty, I'm not sure. Your company's always been enough for me. I never thought of having anything more. What I did last night—what I didn't do—I can't explain." It'd been late, after all. Just a drowsy misstep… right? He hadn't fallen for anyone. Not since Betty.

"Guess we're on a similar boat." The billionaire's gaze didn't falter. "…Let me level with you here, Banner. I'm 100% committed to Peps. Or so I thought. You're… the one exception I thought I'd never have. So yeah, I'm just as shocked with myself as you are. But I can't just throw these feelings away. I already tried. You see how far that's gotten me." The doctor looked away, running his hands compulsively down his crinkled shirt. He didn't know how to respond. What could he say? He was a shattered man, slowly being pieced together as the days passed. His joys, his triumphs lied here, with Tony. His brown eyes widened, staring holes into the tiled floor. He studied the specks of granite without studying them at all.

Had he been…? This entire time?

"Bruce? You're doing the thing again."

His charisma. His confidence. His generosity. His 'do-or-die' attitude. His genius. All were qualities he'd grown to admire. But was that all Bruce had for Tony? Admiration? His heart rate increased with nerves, chin resting in hand.

"Bruce, you in there?"

"Sorry, sorry, I just… Sorry. This kind of thing… It's been a while since I've…"

"I get it. I'm just glad to know where we stand here."

"Right."

An uncomfortable silence leaked into the air, and Bruce suddenly stood, arms folded. The outside world now fell victim to his wary gaze as he approached the nearest window. He gave a short exhale of a laugh, back turned to Tony. "It all sorta… creeps up on you, doesn't it? I thought I knew what to expect. I didn't." His shoe tapped quietly on the floor. Moments later, the billionaire followed after him, leaning against the wall. He wanted to say something, but for once, he was speechless. Instead, he rested a consoling hand on the other's shoulder. Bruce turned to look at him, frustration in his eyes.

"…Tony."

"Yeah."

Bruce swiftly pulled the engineer closer, lips crashing into his.


	10. Careless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Careless, careless, careless...

For once, Bruce didn't think.

His fingers dipped into Stark's raven dark hair, want clear in every move he made. He kissed boldly, fully; it was an offer Tony couldn't refuse. The feel of the doctor's fingers sent an unfamiliar chill down the spine, the man pressing further back against the wall. It was a mesh of stubble, fabric and trepidation, the air hot with questions.

Bandaged digits grazed the doctor's jaw. Heart pounding, recollections dashed about in Bruce's hazed mind, hands moving to the front of the other's shirt. So this was what it felt like. Pupils dilated, neurons fired away, addiction quickly developing. This was the luxury he'd walked away from all those years ago. He'd forgotten how… sweet it was. He broke the kiss with a slight shudder, having his answer. The subtle scent of shampoo and cologne wafted between them, breaths held in mutual astonishment. Their eyes locked. Something different lied in their stare.

Words refused to come forth. All Bruce wanted to do was… more. But then an unshakeable sense of dread tainted the cathartic air. He stepped back from the flustered billionaire. "…" He brought his hand over his face, sighing. "I'm terrible."

"No, Bruce, actually we _both_ are." The man leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling.

A moment like that had a way of… pulling a person along for the ride. But there was no excuse. It was a stupid thing they did. Stupid and so very… good. He tried to ignore the guilt gnawing at him, caught in a mental fray. His eyes followed Bruce, who went to grab his jacket. "Where're you goin'?"

"Somewhere. Anywhere. It's better that way."

"I'm sorry, 'better?' You're just gonna hit the road, bindle in hand? No, Doctor, in my humble opinion, that tired little move you always pull won't help you find what you're looking for. Never does." The creak of a well-worked leg brace sounded as the piqued billionaire finally moved from his place. Quite typical of Bruce to walk out now. Everything was out in the open. Nothing to hide… and he did so very much like hiding.

"Huh," Banner hummed, folding his arms tightly over his chest. "And what am I looking for?"

Question of the century. For a man with an answer to everything, the query stopped Tony dead in his tracks. Four years later, and that was the piece of the puzzle he'd yet to find.

Bruce looked on expectantly. "I'm such an open book to you, right?" Still nothing. At that, the doctor smiled, dry of any humor. "I thought as much. I haven't been 'looking' for anything for years. Sure, I'm allowed my moments of peace here and there. But it's always a very temporary thing. You opened your home to me, helped me more times than I can count on _four_ hands… And how can I repay you? By driving a wedge between you and Pepper? No. I don't wanna rock this boat any more than I already have." Before he could race for the exit, a hand wrapped itself around his wrist. He turned to find patient eyes.

"You have such an addiction to leaving without any sort of closure. It's gonna ruin you."

"Closure doesn't exist here." He pulled against Tony's grasp. Tony pulled back.

"All I've seen you do is run, Bruce. That's why closure doesn't exist. You work so hard to make people buy the bullshit you're selling, and it's toxic."

"Oh, is that right? What I do is toxic?" The doctor took back his wrist, nursing the area momentarily. "Don't you preach to me about toxic behavior. You've clearly got baggage you refuse to share. And maybe… maybe you like having someone worse off around. Makes your issues seem a little smaller, huh?"

The engineer could only scoff at that.

"You're reaching, Bruce. That's not true and you know it. The reason I brought your stubborn ass back here was so I could help fix you."

"You CAN'T FIX ME." The engineer blinked. It'd been a while since Bruce raised his voice. It had the kind of bass that could silence an entire room. The body language changed. Stiffened. Stifled. Cautious. The doctor's hands clenched into fists at his sides, gaze collapsing to the floor once again. It was a tiled refuge, cold and uninteresting, ironically making it the complete opposite. He slowly inhaled, gained his mental bearings. "Listen… I came into this world broken and there's nothing you can do about it. Especially now, with all… this. I won't be your poison."

For a while, Tony was silent. He almost lost this dangerous game of verbal tango. A thought came to him, then another, reproducing and dividing and filling his muddled head. His eyes were wide, trained on the other with a look of almost… uncertainty. What should he say? What was he _supposed_ to say? Doubt was a scary look on him; his deep, dark orbs suddenly seemed shallow and void. But he caught himself in time, just before he fell into the trap Bruce was lost in. He spoke. "You're no 'poison' of mine, Bruce. God—you're so sure I don't understand you. We're _both_ damaged goods." A few small steps brought him closer to Bruce, whose eyes were trained on him. The storm of want whirled in his heavy eyes, masked only by the cool glare of his lenses. It betrayed him, whispering his truth. The old, thorny tendrils coiled around his heart began to quake, unsure in the face of something so withstanding. It was unwise to hope Tony wasn't so attentive. He knew him too well.

The latter stepped even closer, bolder this time. "You and I? We're a million miles from perfect." For the briefest of moments, hesitation visited his starry gaze. But then he remembered the adamant ache in his heart. "What's another step back?" He awaited no response. The time for talking had passed. Bruce let out a hushed noise, shock quickly melting to relinquishment. Every part of his mind shrieked for him to end this now, to do the decent thing, but… no. Damn everything said prior. He _wanted this._ With him. His heart soared more than it sank, a feeling so long forgotten it was foreign.

The engineer's lips were soft yet demanding, his silver tongue winning him another sweet iteration of what he already knew. Time did not exist then. Much to his surprise, the doctor demonstrated his own bravado, gripping him closer. Emotion had officially won over conscience, and the two parted lips differently this time. That same chill racked Tony once more, but a sample of the passion boiling beneath Banner's controlled façade. The secrets that lied just at arm's length. The little push it required to procure them. It was a game that never grew tiresome, and perhaps, deep down, the doctor knew that. The passing of a plane sounded outside, the sky having lost its golden kiss minutes ago. A familiar cerulean glow bled through the fabric of Tony's dark top, heart compromised in more ways than one. He stood still as the other buried his face in the crook of his neck. Banner was silent, thick curls tickling the man's exposed skin.

"I never let myself have this." He said finally, voice soft, muffled. His tone was laden with something unintelligible. It was a delightful thrill to which the engineer didn't admit, his dark eyes falling to the other's peppered curls. He'd seen him time and time again exercise his anxious ticks, watched as his shaky hands grazed through his hair. It was as if he were trying to comb his very thoughts from his mind, before once again relinquishing to silence. It'd fascinated him for some reason. If one looked closely enough, the clues of the doctor's strife laid bare. He felt Bruce's fingers clutch the back of his shirt a moment before loosening. Anything beyond rage had become too overwhelming to manage. He forgot what it felt like to be rooted in the moment. The doctor gently pulled himself from Tony's warmth, face bright and charming.

"Bruce…?"

"Heh. I… Wow. I-I guess I'd fallen for you a long time ago."

Did he actually say-? He wasn't supposed to say it. Not yet. Not… ever. Tony's throat ran dry, fingers stiff at his sides. Good lord, he felt ridiculous, paralyzed not by a kiss, but the doctor's words. Was that… heat rushing to his face? That wasn't sweat lining his palms, was it? No, no, he never felt this way. He was Tony _goddamn_ Stark. He was Cupid in mortal form. But all that went out the window just now. And Bruce seemed just _tickled_ about it. His brown eyes sparkled with satisfaction, the look he gave so very new. "All in the name of closure." He hummed with a shrug of the shoulder. How very… Stark of him. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he stepped away, eyeing the minibar further into the room. "How about a drink? I think I'll stay a while."

"Yeah, about that—who are you and what have you done with the good Doctor?"

"I'm not entirely sure. Let's just say maybe you're right about some things." He rolled his neck, seeming looser. All that tension appeared to have washed away. It was a good look on him. His movements brought attention to his exposed collarbone, three buttons undone on his shirt. He'd always been conservative with the way he dressed, but it was something he pulled off perfectly. His sleeves bunched nicely above his elbows, the article's hem tucked loosely into his pants. His pressed collar complimented his defined jawline, and it left just enough to the imagination. "Tony?" He called expectantly. Shit, he was staring.

"Y-y'know, I've never actually seen you drink," he stuttered, "you sure you can handle your liquor?"

Banner chuckled. "I know my way around a bottle, I can assure you."

"So THIS is what you've been up to." Tony blanched, his voice caught in his throat.

It was Pepper.


	11. Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Bruce catch themselves in quite the predicament. But perhaps it needed to happen...

Tony felt as if he'd swallowed a fistful of sand. His voice was stuck, unwilling to leave his throat. But then Pepper raised a dismissive hand.

"Whoa there. There's nothing wrong with a little solidarity."

"…You've been standing there _how_ long?"

The woman adjusted the stack of folders in her careful grasp, appearing unbothered. "Not very. I was handling a little bit of business before tonight, but I realized I hadn't told you I'd be gone for the evening… Ladies Night with Trish. Anywho, I never pegged you as the drinking type, Doctor." She tilted her head with a warm smile. "Nice to know you like to let your hair down every once in a while." Banner said nothing but nodded, heart practically leaping out of his chest. Pepper continued. "Yeah… it's gonna be a great night, and I'll have some much-needed fun, so… here I am… to tell you that."

"Oh… Well, thanks for the courtesy pop-up. Maybe we can work around three spa trips a week for ya." At that, the dress-clad woman gave a soft chuckle, eyes sparkling.

"It wouldn't be quite as special." There was a brief pause, an uncomfortable quiet spread thick between the three of them. "…Well, I'm gonna wrap this paperwork up and head out. Ciao!" Just as quickly as she came, Tony's favorite woman departed, a bounce in her step.

"Bye…" Tony half-sighed, gripping his forearm. Everything about that was odd. But in the heat of the moment, he was willing to accept impunity as it was presented. His shoulders sank, a weak "Goddamn it…" escaping his lips.

That was far too close.

A few moments had passed before either genius spoke.

"…I think I'm gonna go now." The lack of panic in Bruce's voice was testament to the opposite.

"No, you stay your ass right there." Tony pointed an unwavering finger in his direction. "And you," he eyed the ceiling, "don't act like you aren't all ears. What is it, 'Don't Listen To Me' Week?"

_"I'm sorry, Tony, but your requests aren't the only ones I am to oblige. Miss Potts IS a resident of this tower, correct?"_

"Of course she is, Jarvis. But I specifically—" he stopped himself. "Do I detect a note of contempt in your tone?"

_"If I may be so bold, Sir, perhaps you might."_

Great. It wasn't enough that he felt like utter crap by his lonesome… His noncorporeal AI butler had somehow given him the cold shoulder as well. "Jarvis. Jarvis, buddy. Pal. I know you're not happy and I'm… a bit of a mess right now." _"…"_ "…but I'm wading through it, alright? These're… human problems. I'm sorry, but you wouldn't understand."

 _"You're right; to be human is an experience I'll never know, but I do know this: No one is exempt from the necessity of self-control."_ Good lord, this was 'therapist and patient' all over again. Jarvis being what he is, he could never truly, fully grasp human sentiments. But he was pretty damn close. So close his words could hurt Tony just the way they needed to. His artificial nature made their exchanges evermore apropos, ironically. And at times, the engineer wondered if he was more human than himself.

"If you've got anyone to be mad at, Jarvis, it's me." The doctor took a chance to ameliorate the tension. "I didn't exercise that self-control. Staying within my bounds is what I've always done, but like some impulse-driven teen, I just stopped. I tried to get in where I don't fit, and it was… stupid. I'm a doctor. I don't do stupid. Or at least, I shouldn't." He clapped his hands together, fingers squeezing tightly around his palms as he bowed his head. "You can't always get what you want. I learned that a long time ago." Back to Tony, he reached behind the bar, grabbing the first bottle that grazed his fingers. It was a 24 oz. of cherry bourbon, to which he hummed in soft curiosity. "I'll make it easy for you, Tony. Stick with Potts." The curly-haired man rummaged around for a glass and ice and poured himself a responsible amount.

 _"Noble as that may be of you, Doctor, I believe the decision must be Tony's."_ Bruce took a hefty sip of the drink, exhaling a terse chuckle. "It doesn't have to be complicated. I can easily remove the unnecessary factor."

"Hey. I don't have to 'choose' anyone. What just happened was a very… small thing."

"…"

_"…"_

Right.

He turned and stared blankly at the TV set hovering in front of the far wall. Even he didn't buy it. Hell, there was so much he told himself that he didn't buy. But believing in this lie was just a bit more comfortable than not. His fingers once again rose to his temples, that dreaded headache returning. There was so much to think about. Yet… there shouldn't be. A loud 'clank' from behind caught his attention, to which he saw the doctor's back as he slipped out the door. The now empty glass stood unattended at the bar counter, the room festering with wild emotion. He refused to deal with it alone. Storming after the other, he was surprised to see that he hadn't gone far, footsteps near silent against the expensive dark tile.  
Bruce didn't care to run. He didn't even care to argue. Not if it meant more unrest. He almost seemed… serene, his gait fluid and unhurried. His jacket slung over his shoulder, he exhaled quietly through his nose. The storm in his mind had passed, leaving behind a peaceful ruin he'd accepted minutes ago. Tony's iron will pushed him to pursuit. Bruce stopped and turned before he could touch him. "Yes…?"

"That it? Are you leaving now?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you _leaving?"_ The engineer's nostrils flared despite himself, the inquiry much more urgent than he'd outwardly expressed. If he'd spent all this time with Bruce only to _still_ lose him… His hands clasped behind his back, eyes shutting for a few moments. He chose his words carefully. "Look… I was a complete dunce back there. I mean, let's be real… I'm an all-you-can-eat buffet of abandonment issues, alcoholism, and a constant sense of inadequacy. But even knowing all that… I can't seem to get a handle on it." He sighed, one hand tightly grasping the other. "Not alone, at least. We don't have to—I just—I need to know you're not disappearing on me again. Please."

Tony had never been one to beg. His pride wouldn't allow for that. But his voice held a note of softness unfamiliar to the khakied scientist. Such gentle candidness. It'd shaken Bruce, his legs turning to lead. Tony stepped toward the other, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. For a while, he just… looked at him. This man who had occupied his thoughts. This man who was so very much like him, yet so different. Who was, in some ways, better than him. Stronger. And not just physically. Tony needed Bruce.

Doctor Banner swallowed, carefully pulling from his grasp. "No. I'm not leaving. But I'm also not doing… this." He'd shaken the immeasurable weight from his legs, something of sternness hardening his features as he created some distance. "This can't happen again."

"You're right," Tony averted his gaze, "you're a thousand percent right. I just don't know if things can really go back to the way they were."

 _ You and me both,_ Bruce silently conceded, rocking back and forth on his feet. His fingers twitched for something to grab onto and he stroked the side of his face. "Even if it doesn't, it's leagues better than the other possibility. Stop while you're ahead." To the other's mild perturbance, the physicist offered a smile. It was gentle but not warm, deliberate but not cold. "Goodnight, Tony." Without another utterance he meandered the corner, the eventual ding of the elevator alerting the other of his official exit.

…

_10:52 PM_

The night was still young, and the now tank-top-donned inventor refused to relent to sleep, though his body screamed for it. He never enjoyed going to bed sorting through a million thoughts. Made for bad REM. And so he returned to his lab to think at his own pace. Green paver lights along the borders of the floor provided meager lumination. At the very center of the room, his armor stood displayed and at the ready, its empty husk an odd comfort of sorts.

"Tell me something, Jarv," he eyed the metal fruit of his labor, his distorted reflection staring back at him in the armor plating. "Am I drifting too far out at sea here?"

There was a considerable pause. _"I'm not entirely sure to what you are referring, Sir."_

"Ah, never mind. Stupid question." Stark turned the small chip of information he'd procured over and over between his cut-riddled fingers. He'd definitely be making a copy of this. "Big day today."

_"Indeed. You've surmounted some major hurdles… and created new ones."_

_"Very subtle,_ buddy." He almost felt as if he'd somehow reverted to a younger Tony Stark. A more reckless version of himself… a version whose loyalties lied in no single place. It was as unsettling as it was uncertain. But to then be chastised about it by his longtime friend and creation… it was… actually kinda nice. There was at least one external party he could turn to for a good kick in the ass. He needed to reflect. He needed to make some choices. Jarvis has always been there in such moments. "You also happen upon yesterday night's silly little slipup?"

 _"Mr. Stark. Must I dignify that with a response?"_ Tony rolled his eyes. _"I'd disregarded it as an act of pure intoxication. I see now that my conclusion was… premature. But you still appear to be searching for some sort of an answer. I will say this: Empirically, the one that seems to make you happiest happens to be two people. Then again, as they say, numbers aren't everything."_ Stark stopped toying with the chip, setting it atop his workbench. He stared at it for a few short seconds, mind wandering before his own voice brought him back.

"I wanna hear how shitty I've been, Jarv, not how the doctor makes me whole… Tell me I need to get my priorities straight or I'll lose Pepper. Snap me out of it."

 _"That would be playing into your destructive hand, I'm afraid. You must finally be honest with yourself."_ Since when did this jumble of programming become a love guru? Tony fought against every word—and yet he had no logical retort. Still, he opened his mouth to speak, and only a yawn came forth.

Damn the mortal body.

"Mm," he ran his hands coolly down his face, "maybe you're onto somethin'. Only thing is…"

 _"It's a step you must take. Now, Mr. Stark, I believe it is time you sleep."_ No objections there.

"Yeah… Thanks, Jarvis." The man gazed up gratefully, rolling his stiff shoulder. He could almost see the AI nodding down at him.

_"Good night."_

The exhausted genius retired to his room and drifted off beside an empty pillow.

…

"Looks like your task was a breeze. I'm not surprised."

"I gather intel in my sleep. It was practically a steal."

Director Fury was handed a small case in which the chip was nestled. Tony had many a time tested his patience, but there wasn't a shadow of a doubt that he'd do what he had to. Eventually. He also couldn't overlook the possibility of the world-class genius commandeering information for his own, personal collection. There were dozens of prepared explanations in place if that were the case. "Still, your lack of urgency for the task leaves much to be desired." The Director's eye narrowed beratingly. "Decades of information, floating around up there unguarded for _days._ There have been inexplicable disappearances aboard the shuttle, and we believe some _'iffys'_ slipped through the cracks. For someone who so _readily_ brags of how quickly he can work, you really didn't scramble to get the job done this time around."

"You can stuff the lecture, all due respect." Tony enunciated the last few words in smarmy reply. "I'd like to put a little spin on this conversation by saying I believe some accolades are in order, because frankly, I saved your ass big-time."

Fury huffed almost amusedly. "Frankly, Stark, that's your job."

"Huh. While we're on the subject, you wanna tell me WHY you're sporting a tricked-out shuttle in space?"

Fury raised a brow unaccusingly. "It was time for change. It isn't enough that we've got teams on the surface; we need security based in every possible front. There was, of course, reluctance to send the rest of the fleet after what just happened. That's why I needed a soldier I could trust."

"Except I'm not a soldier." Time and time again he'd disputed that. The 'S' word really rubbed him the wrong way. Its connotation screamed of everything he never wanted to be… another cog in this marching, roaring machine. Pepper's worries concerning him weren't unfounded. But adding to her stresses was as unpleasant as dealing with his own. He cleared his throat, raising his head high. "We done here, Nick?"

"For now, sure. But I'll need you back up there real soon."

…

_Some Days Later…_

"Pardon my forwardness, but you look… terrible."

"Do I? Hardly noticed." The good doctor deadpanned, hands carefully wrapped around a warm cup of tea. He hadn't worn his usual clothing, grey hoodie devouring his messy head in a rare and graceless fashion. His brown eyes had dimmed, the fog of premature rising adding a few years to his appearance. He once again sat before Isis, watching the trail of steam rise from his beverage. It was… entrancing. He eventually brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. The aroma of sandalwood incense carried through the air, and the outside world's commotion was made irrelevant at the doorway. This was ideal. The dragging silence, however… "Were you not expecting me? I get the feeling that you weren't expecting me."  
"Of course I was; you scheduled. I'm just a bit… perplexed." Chin in hand, she thumbed through the small schedule booklet lying on the short-legged table before them, muttering worried somethings under her breath. "Fill me in?" The doctor quietly suggested, stealing another few hearty sips. He didn't savor it.

How could she say this without getting a rise out of him? "I sense something's not right within you. You are—"

"Empty."

Isis blinked, impressed with the man's sudden honesty. "As a matter of fact, yes."

"No, no, I mean my cup. It's nearly empty. I'd like to pour myself some more tea—if it isn't any trouble."

Of course.

"Hm. You're really good at that, you know."

The doctor peeked over the brim of his drink, appearing perplexed himself. "Good at what, exactly…?"

"Being just _godawful_ to yourself." She shook her head, strands of untied hair swaying freely.

The doctor tilted his head. "You should see me when I'm trying." The lilt in his voice should have indicated a dark joke, but it hadn't. "Really, I don't know what you're talking about, Isis. I'm sitting here with you. I'm—drinking tea, which is delicious, by the way. What's 'godawful' about it?"

The lines on the woman's face deepened as she smiled warmly. Her fingers gently moved over his, and he looked up at her. She exuded understanding; it was actually quite intimidating. "You of all people should know that external actions do not equate to what's going on inside."

"Nothing's going on inside."

"Exactly my point. You're empty. You've _made_ yourself empty. But we shall make you whole again—through mindful conversation."

"Um, I don't—"

"It is my turn to speak. Now, I'm going to tell you something I have told no other client: I'm not just your run-of-the-mill trained medium. I'm also an empath." The doctor's eyes widened a tad, gaze respectful. She continued. "I'm sure you know the denotation. But beyond that, I can experience what another has experienced, catching glimpses into his or her future in the process." The woman paused, shoulders visibly lax. "Physical contact heightens my abilities while sleep furthers my reach. It's how I saw you, though you aren't very easy to miss. Over the years, I've learned to work with and accept my abilities… though not without effort." The doctor's momentary quiet was very telling.

"I'm flattered that you'd trust me with this information, but… why tell me at all?"

"People like you need to know they are not alone." This struck a chord within him, and he swallowed back the surprise. Somehow, he needed to hear that. Still, he remained quiet, his clasped hands loosening. "In my earlier years, I was hounded by those who would wish to probe me, use my abilities for their own twisted ambition. It wasn't long before I had trouble distinguishing myself from my powers. Not so different from you, I would say. Because of my traumas, I was very keen on secrecy. But I soon realized just how little that got me."

"Ah. So that's what this is." Bruce nodded almost amusedly, rubbing an eye. "You want to hear about Tony."

"I never said that."

"Then you were implying it." No retort. "There's nothing to say."

Unbelievable. He couldn't see what he was doing to himself. Years and years of being forced to hold his tongue and breathe through the frustration. No doubt second nature by now. "Breathe with me for a moment, Doctor." The older woman positioned herself completely upright, legs folded. Her hands rested on her knees upturned, the table forgotten. "…I can't help but feel you're holding back from me, and it is my job to pull you out of that cyclic rut. Do you understand?" After a few moments, Banner emulated the empath.

Pressing his index fingers to his thumbs, he drew in a deep and slow breath. "You wanna hear the truth?" He exhaled through his mouth, eyes slowly shutting. "Truth is it shouldn't have happened. I got a taste of something genuine, and it was… convincing." He listened to his heartbeat between pauses. "But that feeling… has got to go."

"Why?" Isis asked softly. "I can feel that it reminds you of so many things." His humanity. A reason to keep going. Proof that perhaps he isn't the destructive scar on the earth that his mind makes him out to be. The things going on inside him now were so…bittersweet. High notes danced on low notes, the night of his mind alight with swirls of melancholy. Years of hurt scabbed over his conscience, bending him to comfortably painful repetition. It's what had kept him sane and safe all this time. But this new spring of life in an otherwise deadened heart was hope's harbinger. He fought it so badly. And the question remained. There was a weak chuckle.

"Why?" The man repeated. "I guess my mind has other plans for me."

…

"Bruce. I know you can hear my voice over the comm." Nothing. "You've been a real schmuck lately, you know that?" Still nothing. "I swear, if you go another day without acknowledging me, _Brat Banner's_ gonna be your new name." Silence.

That's it.

The engineer swiped away his speaker screen, ready to go and kick down the doctor's door. It was one thing to lay low for a day, maybe even two. But he'd hardly spoken to the man in almost a week. He made his way to the upper level of the Tower, rounding the rec room and beelining for the doctor's safe space. His door was ajar, the sky's cloudy light spilling into the empty room. The faint aroma of long-burned lavender incense crept out at the genius, and he nudged the door further open. It smelled of regal rumination, the doctor's bed hastily made. Atop the beige pillow was the doctor's phone, abandoned. Clearly, he'd had an itch to have some real "him" time. Ouch. Understandable, but… ouch.

Tony wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, trying not to think much of it. He wasn't Bruce's keeper, after all. But still... The meaningful conversations, the friendly exchanges and genuine assurances… It all stopped like the flip of a switch. Hell, it seemed like he couldn't even pay the doctor to look in his general direction. In a word, it sucked. But maybe it was for the best. Who's to say that this isn't what Banner needs? Who's to say that wasn't what Tony needed? Like his soft-dispositioned counterpart, Stark was very good at pretending. Running away from thoughts was a regimen all its own, and it ate up a lot of his time. But he thought he had finished with his thinking. That the restless nights were over. He stepped into the room, which felt so different from the rest of the Tower. Somehow it was lighter, despite its occupant's very heavy train of thought. "Hm…" Tony hummed mindlessly. He sat at the edge of the bed, brace clicking with the motion.

He remembered the first night he'd brought him here. Bruce exuded a toxicity that had eaten a hole through his mind and heart. How lost he must've felt to truly believe that there was no other way besides… Tony grimaced at the mental image. It wasn't to say the thought hadn't crossed his mind a few times during his life. Trauma and loss can do that to a person. But how utterly bone-chilling it was to be on the outside looking in. Since then, Bruce has smiled for him countless times. Perhaps he couldn't see it, but he'd changed. Without a thought, the engineer laid back against the mattress, fingers interlaced over his naval. _ Get up, you idiot,_ he mentally berated himself, but his body refused to move a muscle. He turned his head toward the window, and the brown in his eyes shone gently.

"Knock, knock." Tony quickly lifted his head.

"Peps?" He sat up.

"Yup, it's me." She stood in the doorway, again wearing that unbothered expression on her face. She was dressed in fall colors, sporting a mustard yellow turtleneck that complimented her azure gander. Her black trench coat stopped at the beginning of her calves, dark wash jeans and beige buckle ankle booties completing her look. Eyes window-bound, she clipped in her second, hooped earring, which sparkled with a turn of her head. She finally looked at him. "Just popping in to let you know you can free up your schedule now. Lunch is off."

"Wait, wait, off? I thought lunch every other Thursday was gonna be the new thing."

"Maybe not." Pepper said. She entered the room, leaning in front of the dresser mirror to apply tasteful, maroon lipstick.

"…Babe, if lunch is off, where're you headed?"

"Oh, I was thinking of having a nice day with my old college friend Sandra. Y'know, hit the town, maybe make out with her a little bit? We have a wonderful friendship going on, so I figured I'd seal the deal with a little lip action. Then maybe we'd end the afternoon exchanging loving gazes. I mean, that's sounds fine, right?"

"…You know…?"

"Of course I know, Tony!" She turned, face muddled with irate disbelief. "How _stupid_ do you think I am?" Miss Potts had seen enough that evening. How badly she'd wanted to kick the door open, grab Tony by the shoulders and ask WHY. But one thing she prided herself on was staying composed. Her strength had been what kept a lot of situations from going south. After all, things were always dodgy with someone as excitable as the doctor in the mix. Everything she held festered until it couldn't anymore.

"I don't think you're stupid." Tony said. His hand brushed down his face, a near-defeated sigh sinking his shoulders. "I'm sorry, I just… can't even begin to explain—"

"Try me." Pepper wasn't about to waver.

He threw his hands up in surrender, standing. "I don't know why I kissed him. I knew I shouldn't have, but I did, and I regret it. But it's not about me right now, and you—"

"Jesus, Tony, it wasn't JUST the kiss!" That evening, something shone in Tony's eyes for Bruce, a something once reserved for her and her alone. She should have picked up hints at the beginning of Bruce's stay. While she reached, Tony drifted further away. Gravitated toward that mess of a man. Though he gave her his time, it was never done with the same commitment. It made sense now, what she was feeling then. She scoffed, moving her hands to her hips.

Why? Why Doctor _Banner?_

"I waited to see how long it'd take for you to come clean and you never did. You STILL can't do it, even to my face! Why won't you just admit it?"

"Admit what, Pepper?"

"That you love him!" She really had to spell it out for him. The words singed her tongue as they passed her lips. But it was the truth. Tony's lack of response said it all. She drew in a trembling breath, angry tears beginning to well in her eyes. "Honestly? I think I'd feel less betrayed if you were off snooping with some younger, prettier version of me. But _Bruce?_ How… could you trade me in… for him?"


	12. Problem-Reaction-Contusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shattered mentality makes for something ugly. Whatever form that 'ugly' takes will be the hurt of everything around it... including itself.

A stare-down was occurring. Determination versus determination. Isis was _going_ to get through to Bruce, whether he preferred it or not. He was a bundle of complexity, composed chaos wrapped in a gentle exterior. How much he reminded her of herself. His scarred mind gave off quite the readings. Yes, there was pain pitted deep within. But there was also a need, a desire to keep afloat. For years, his highest priority has been to… contain. He contained his pain, and suppressed the joys that would distract him from it. But that was what made pain such a tricky thing: it wasn't a single entity.

Pain is a colony, a tactical one. It bides its time within its host, gradually strengthening as the years roll by. Sometimes it lays dormant, buried so deep it births the delusion of respite. But it does not go.

Misery and remorse tunnel through the brain like ravenous moles, leaving behind a trail of scars. Those scars are hard to face, and even harder to stare down. Who, then, would ever willingly demolish their faux walls of mental fortitude?

"Mm," Isis hummed, "I knew you'd be my greatest challenge." She steepled her fingers, calmly breathing in the tension she did not carry.

Bruce responded with a crooked smile. "That what I am to you? Some unprecedented hurdle to feed your sense of accomplishment?"

"Well, that is part of it, yes." Suddenly she stood, her wooden bracelets clattering quietly. Atop her register counter was a small plate holding a half-burned stick of sage. She took it in her hands and it alighted once more with a match, giving it a gentle blow for good measure. It crackled, the smoke of its dried leaves quickly permeating the entire room. With gentle care, the plate was carried over to the doctor and held over his clouded head. "You silly, silly man," she practically crooned, "don't you see you're in your own way? You come to me for assistance, yet you refuse to accept it. Who, I wonder, is sitting before me right now… you, or the darkness that lives inside you?"

The doctor blinked, genuinely startled by the question. "I…" The earthy aroma filled his lungs, wisps of smoke dancing around his face. Everything waited for an answer. "I… don't know." His fingers gripped tightly at the material of his pants, sudden realization twinkling in his eyes. The numbness he cloaked around himself unraveled too quickly for him to properly adjust. Emptiness was its own brand of hell. But this uncertainty was worse. Isis reached down to touch him, and he flinched. She didn't buckle.

"I realize this may be a tall order, but I need you to trust me. To _really_ trust me." She finally set the sage on the table, kneeling beside him. He didn't look at her. "I can not only sense your emotions, Bruce, but I can see certain parts of your life. And I'm going to do a bit of digging. The sooner I get to the bottom of it all, the sooner I can help."

Banner took a long breath, slightly turning his head from her. "Yeah." He said. "Alright." He slowly faced her.

Giving a satisfied smile, Isis pressed her fingers to his temples.

_Scenes of old lashed out at her mind's eye, all frantic and all wanting to be seen. She felt the petrification, the regret, the questioning. Isis focused on one._

_She saw a woman of brunette hair and a sweet smile. Her spoken word was euphonious, though unintelligible. Her name was Betty, and the empath felt the love she offered him, and the acquiescent rejection that followed. No matter how much they both wanted it to work, there was no happy ending to be had. Her family ties had proven to be… unfortunate, and exploitative. It was dangerous for them both. He thought about her sometimes, wondered how she was after all these years. Still, Isis dug further._

_She became him, looked down at his trembling hands, heard his angered sobs. "When was this?" she wondered. Overwhelming emotion crashed over her head like a tidal wave, and she could hardly fight the encompassing fury that overcame them. Green crept over his fingers, and she finally knew. This was one of the first times he changed. What a feeling. The pressure built inside her chest, bubbled upward. Hidden under the soil was a skyscraper of wrongs. Everything had piled up, one on top of the other, until it was too tall to bury._

_There were countless instances like this in his life, time and time again this endless well of violence was piqued. She felt it all. The godawful cracking of bones, excruciating stretching and pulling of muscles and tendons, all while being thrown in the passenger's seat. It would surely drive even the most untroubled person insane. How did he do it?_

_By now, the woman's eyes welled with tears, but she was determined to find something else._

_Where did all this anger come from?_

_Was it anger towards his predicament? Some past grievance? She shut her eyes tight, once again braving the unforgiving territory that was the doctor's memories. Something new came to her now. The view was hazy, flickering and fickle. It was an old memory, possibly suppressed. Eventually it came into full focus._

_A child's distressed voice tore through the silence._

_"Mommy!"_

_"You get the hell out of here, David! This is between me and your mother." A man glowered at the 6-year-old child that was Bruce, his hands gripping roughly at his mother's shoulders. There was a standoff in the kitchen, innocence cracking with every passing moment._

_"Bruce… Honey… Go out and ride your scooter. Everything's fine."_

_Everything's fine._

_"No! Dad's always yelling at you and doing bad things to you! Your eye's a weird color, and I know he did it!"_

_"Bruce, baby—"_

_"STOP HURTING HER!" With all his might, Bruce kicked his father's shin, driving low blows in the hopes that this bad man would stop and finally leave._

_**Everything is fine.**_

_"Agh! You mother-!" His father raised a hand to slap him… but the woman grabbed his wrist._

_"You do what you want to me, Brian, but you do NOT lay a finger on my son."_

_Bruce's heart pounded in his ears, helplessness weighing him down. He was only a small child. All he wanted to know was… why? Why did he beat her? What made his father so angry?_

_"You know what, David?" Brian Banner yanked his arm away and reached for something on the counter, his wife's eyes widening in horror, "Your mother's right. You'd better close your eyes, kid."_

_** EVERYTHING'S FINE.**_ ****

_Hideous malice etched on his face, he raised a knife to her and-_

 

"AAH!" Bruce fell back against the wooden floor, clutching his head.

Jerked out of her trance, Isis struggled to catch her breath, peering over with unsure eyes. "My god, that… hasn't happened in years, I… Bruce…?" He didn't answer.

The man was curled into fetal position. His fingers tugged incessantly at his curls, teeth gnashing as he trembled. She went too far back. Deep-seated damage sought tenure in the unquieted soil that was his psyche; her disturbance was a disturbance too many. That familiar rush of unfathomable emotion radiated from the doctor, and now it was her turn to fear. "Bruce, you've got to listen to me, darling. Focus on my voice."

"I CAN'T." He growled. Memories rushed to the forefront, things his mind protected him from. The murder of his mother. His years in foster care. The abuse. That teeming, festering, BOILING-

He ran his nails across the floor, pain already climbing up his body. "You… YOU… need to GO." His voice fluxed between human and something else, Isis' stomach dropping. "NOW!" Doctor Banner glared up at her with dangerous, emerald eyes. The Other Guy was forcing his way out despite his efforts, quickly ripping through his smaller frame. The seams of his clothing began to tear, and it was the last thing Isis saw before bolting out the door.

_ I'm so sorry…_

…

"Will you please _listen_ to me?" Tony followed Pepper, her heels quickly clicking down the hall.

"As entertaining as it would be to hear whatever _nonsense_ you come up with on the spot, it wouldn't." A short exhale passed her lips, her lashes fluttering apathetically at Stark's pleading face.

"Look, I didn't 'trade you in'. I promise I didn't. And I know this all has been one giant dick move, but I do love you. That's never changed."

Pepper stopped. "And you… also love Bruce."

Tony clenched his jaw. What good was it prolonging this torture? It was hurting her. It was consuming him. He had to be honest with her. Otherwise… he wasn't sure. He reached inside himself, pulling out the truth hidden in plain sight. It trembled and quaked in his grasp, but it was still truth, and it was still liberating. "…I don't think I can help it, Peps. I wish I could lie and say that I never really look forward to our time, or that his goddamn _smile_ isn't as... It'd be nice to say a lot of things. But Bruce is just a different breed, he's… something else. And I… I see that, just as much as I see you." Tony's eyes softened. For a moment, he could truly breathe. One weight was traded for another, however, the savvy business woman throwing him a lukewarm stare.

She patted his shoulder. "See? That wasn't so hard." Just before her soft hand left him, she swore gently, and began to take her leave.

"Pepper. Pepper wait—" The floor beneath them trembled. There was an uneventful few seconds, then the quake returned, stronger this time. What the hell was going on?

A bone-chilling roar echoed faintly through the building's fortified walls.

Shit.

…

A familiar, colossal figure stood amid a drove of abandoned vehicles, looking very disoriented. One of the buildings sported a large hole of broken brick, dust picked up by the wind. An upturned caravan lied helpless half a block away, tossed without effort. People scattered. The streets reeked of distress.

"Yup," Tony sighed, "that's our Guy."

With a worried heart, Pepper spectated from the building's topmost platform, coat fluttering in the pushing winds. Any ache she felt prior was swallowed for the moment. This was exactly what she'd been worried about. That same question of "why" buzzed around her burdened head.

The genius was dressed in metal, hovering above the Tower as the suit scanned for civilians in immediate danger. Twenty-three people. Seven of which were children. A young man was spotted, unwittingly standing beneath a loose business sign. It creaked ever downward, its large bolts bent out of shape. With astonishing speed, Iron Man jetted down and whisked the man away before he could be crushed.

"Thank you…!" The civilian gaped, stomach dropping on his descent. He glanced in the distance, having landed blocks away, then back at his savior. "I-I thought the Hulk was gone for good! He—"

"I got it under control, kiddo." And with that, he returned to the big green Danger. Stats and percentages appeared on his visor viewscreen. He knew what he had to do. "Jarv?"

_"Already on it."_

…

Tony swallowed. Phantom pains ran through his body, reminded him of the worst-case scenario. A deep caution settled within him, and he abided by it.

Now surrounding the behemoth were four empty suits; another three were tasked with evacuating the area. He drew in, slowly. "Bruce?"

Hulk was unnervingly still, back to Tony and the rest. In his grip was the ripped hood of a car; his fingers went through it like clay. Though he said nothing, the metal creaked with strain within his grasp. It went without saying that he was ready for anything.

"Bruce." Iron Man tried. "I know you're in there. Look, I dunno what happened, but everything's—"

 ** "No."** Hulk turned, finally laying eyes on the metal men around him. His trademark grimace eased into his expression. Noxious rage cloaked his vision. The four duds tensed, widening their girth as he approached the true Iron Man. He managed to contain himself at the familiar sight of the genius, though no less discontent. ** "No Bruce."** He jabbed his thumb hard into his chest. ** "Only Hulk."**

"Okay… Big Guy. You're totally right. Why don't we just simmer down and talk, yeah?" A metal hand was extended, and for a moment, things seemed alright. The Hulk's gaze softened, a short huff of an exhale shrinking him ever so slightly. But then Iron Man received a faceful of car hood. The force dragged him through the road, vehicles violently yielding to his impact. He pulled himself from the furrowed asphalt, only to see a motorbike headed his way. He dodged, inches away from catching its brunt. The Hulk snarled at him. "…Alright."

Roughhousing it is.

"Do it."

The drones fired each of their palm blasters, beams catching Hulk from all sides. It burned, and it only angered him further, but at least they had his full attention. He roared, pushing back against the blue salvo.

 _"Please be reasonable."_ Jarvis interjected, one of the suits daring to abate fire. _"We can handle this without jeopardizing the area. You just have to calm yourself."_

The behemoth grunted loudly, arms raising to deflect front-coming fire. Reasonable? Calm? How could he be? Intense emotion was his dinner bell; it demanded him, and he was always prepared to answer its call. After all, he was made to face what Bruce couldn't.

With strain, he opened his arms, wincing as the beams pelted his front once again. They were quickly brought together again, hands joining for a devastating thunder-clap. The incredible force shattered all glass in its path, shards cascading down like hellish rain. Tony's drones were thrown back, its ear-piercing sound surely echoing for the next few miles. What followed was a deafening quiet. And that's what Hulk wanted.

 ** "Hulk _protects_ Banner."** He glowered up at his wary assailants, which were now floating high above him. The behemoth seldom spoke beyond a word or three, and this was quite the surprise. ** "Weak people get in Hulk's way. Call always for puny Doctor. But _Hulk_ protects!"** He was 3 stories high with a single bound, slamming a slow-acting drone to the unforgiving ground below. A lamppost came down with it, contorted like a pipe cleaner. Hulk's fists came down hard on the strong metal; he wanted it down for good. They couldn't understand him, or why he was here. They wouldn't. His anger screamed louder than his words. Another suit came to its aid, obviously no match, but it played its part well. It was a good thing the guy had tunnel vision.

 _"He's doing quite the number on the suits,"_ Jarvis remarked. _"Do make this count."_

"What, you don't trust me?" Tony'd been keeping his distance for an opportunity just like this one. The other suits were just a distraction, and a minor sacrifice. He slowly descended and locked on target with the help of his viewscreen. Taking in air, he raised his arm, aimed, and fired. _ Sorry, Bruce…_

A large needle shot into the Other Guy's back, just between the shoulder blades. Bullseye. There was a grunt of confusion, green eyes meeting Tony's, and the droids were quickly forgotten. The metal-clad Avenger descended, his faceplate lifting. "I really wish these weren't the circumstances, pal." Hulk eventually managed to remove the foreign object, but its contents were already flooding his system. Something of malice washed over his expression, recollections of similar past experiences piqued. He started to charge for the other… but a unique pain soon ailed him, toppling him like a domino.

The green powerhouse was dissipating though still quite tangible, boiling away but still contained. Though he shouted, it felt as if he were being silenced. This sensation was familiar… but it was already too late once he realized. _Bruce was coming back._ He shrunk painfully, slowly, hints of his color persisting… until it all fell quiet.

…

_"You do what you want to me, Brian, but you do NOT lay a finger on my son."_

_"STOP HURTING HER!"_

_"You'd better close your eyes, kid."_

Tired eyes fluttered open to a sea of white. A sickening sterility filled the nostrils. "Oh… my head, it's… Where… am I…?" A blurred face came into view.

"Easy, don't try to get up." The voice was a tad garbled, but still familiar. Something cool touched his forehead and he shrank from it. "Yeesh. Still burning up." There was a sharp prick in his shoulder immediately after. "This oughta get it going down."

Another face pushed into his line of vision. The voice was deep, authoritative. "We should be able to iron out the kinks with a bit more testing."

Panic seeped into the doctor's thoughts. Had he been taken? What had he done, and to whom? He fought to sit upright, though the effort was dizzying to say the least. He collapsed back onto the soft, cotton surface he rested in, feeling clammy. His respiration was rapid, and he realized just how unwell he felt. "What… what's happening?" He put up a hand to shield his eyes.

"Bruce, it's me."

"…Tony…?" The doctor peeked between his fingers, and sure enough, Stark stood at his side. Cautiously returning his hand to his side, he glanced to his left. Nick Fury was here, too.

The Director was stoic and unreadable as ever, though the gleam in his eye suggested he had some words for them both. "Nice to see you, Banner. It's been a while."

"What… am I doing here?" He paused. "How many…?"

"None. Everyone's safe. Stark here helped keep the danger to a minimum. Though, to be honest, I _am_ surprised that you were in the city at all." The Director gave the billionaire an accusing look.

"Well, I never said he _wasn't_." The two shared a loaded gaze.

"That… doesn't explain everything," Banner breathed. "I-I've never felt this way coming back." He glanced around, briefly acknowledging the reclined berth he laid atop. He was in something of a hospital room, clearly SHIELD-owned. A small dresser by the head of the berth held a change of clothes, and he soon noticed the uncomfortable predicament he was in. Draped over his shoulders was a patient gown, sheets rising up to his midsection. He glanced between the two, awaiting an explanation.

Tony chewed the inside of his cheek, fingers drumming over his folded arms. "…SHIELD's been developing a formula to induce Hulk-dormancy for a while now. And… I used it on you." Bruce said nothing. "The compound's still imperfect, and your body's been fighting the adverse effects for close to a day. Fury here entrusted me with the concoction should you ever return from hiding… which you did."

"So you've had it this entire time." The doctor ran a hand over his aching head, though the corners of his eyes managed to crinkle with humor. No wonder. Tony really did have it all under control. He finally looked over at the Director. That formula would never be perfect. He tried the same thing time and time again. Little did he know SHIELD's top scientists had been building upon his findings.

"I'm just glad no one was killed. Now, if you could," he gestured to the door opposite the berth, "I'd like to get properly dressed before my, uh, detainment."

The Director exhaled sharply through his nose. "You know that's not how we do things."

"That's _exactly_ how you do things with _me_." Pinching the bridge of his nose he shut his eyes tight, lucidity coming to him, slowly. "I'm not sure how Tony kept me off the radar, but I know you've been searching. Everyone searches at one point or another." Bruce reached for the clothes, another, brief dizzy spell catching him. His thoughts were still quite jumbled, the previous day lost to oblivion. All he wanted right now was to be left alone.

Fury was the first to head for the door, but he lingered at the entrance. "You got one thing right. We _were_ searching. But you need to know… I'm not like Ross." The name carried a murky trail with it, binding to the doctor's ears. Betty's dreadful father. Few others sickened him more. Fury continued. "SHIELD at its core is for the good of the people, and I know you are too. Now, you can keep tearing yourself apart if you want… But the world marches on." And with that, he departed.

Tony trailed behind, but not without offering a glance in the other's direction. The door shut quietly behind him.

…

Bruce sat shirtless on the berth for a few minutes, brooding. Perspiration dewed his temples, and there was a moment he felt faint. But he fought the urge to lie down. He soon noticed a mild throbbing that started in the middle of his back. It was nagging, persistent, and a little different from the aches he'd usually be left with post-transformation. Though his limbs each felt 20 pounds heavier, he trudged to a sizeable mirror hanging left-adjacent, and silently examined himself. "?" His broadish fingers dragged along the shoulder, skirting around a strangely bruised patch of skin. It was purple in coloration, and particularly sensitive. What the hell was in that amalgam? Messy brown curls began to stick to his forehead and he pushed them aside with his other hand.

It all could have ended much worse, and he was glad that it didn't. So why then did he feel a little… betrayed? Perhaps the fever was goading him into restless thought. It was childish. Maybe it was Hulk. His musings soon wandered to Isis, and he hoped to goodness he hadn't turned the area into a pile of rubble. He pulled the provided shirt around himself, much too hot to button it up, yet far too chilled to remain without it. This wasn't anything a little Ibuprofen couldn't fix, he was sure. He just wanted to leave. Stumbling into a pair shoes at the foot of the dresser, he made the call and headed for the exit. He pulled the handle.

On the other side stood an apprehensive Tony Stark, fist hovering to knock. His eyes flitted over Bruce and he gingerly stepped back. "Well, this works too." Doctor Banner tilted his head slightly, as immovable as Tony was unstoppable. "I'll let the matter of you needing to rest slide for a moment and ask you this: What triggered it?"

"That's personal, Tony." Banner joked flippantly, proceeding to brush past the other. But a hand caught his shoulder. With hardly the resolve to protest, he sighed. "…I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

Tony let go, a knowing glint in his eye. "Sure."

"Why didn't you tell me you had a way to subdue the Hulk?" Said Bruce. "Why let me tiptoe around, paranoid?"

"Because I never actually planned on using it." Grim lines formed on his forehead. "After your Hulk-out months back, Fury decided the Big Guy needed an off-switch. But no one knew how your body would react to something so unnatural. You weren't around to test it on, and whatever blood samples they had were all contaminated to some degree."

Tony never wanted Bruce to feel as though he didn't trust him, because he did. He really did. And when everyone else insisted on treating him like a monster, Stark went and did the opposite. It was something he prided himself on, so this all seemed like a step in the wrong direction. It was one thing to possess the volatile chemical compound. It was another to actually _use_ it. It was stupid and incredibly risky, and perhaps… he'd panicked. Still, the change was abrupt and in the middle of the bustling city. Not to mention property damage, bad publicity, and overall mayhem. It just wasn't good. Without a more powerful suit readily available, it was the only way to keep the peace. "I never said anything because I never agreed with it. I just happened to be the best one for the job."

"Because I'd let you get close enough to use it."

"Exactly."

"…" The doctor breathed quietly.

"Now you. Out with it."

Bruce pursed his lips, averting his gaze. "Let's just say it was a soul-searching incident gone wrong. I met with an empath and she… saw some things about me… And that somehow made _me_ see some things." His head shook at the chilling memory, shoulders lifting in discomfort. "I was overwhelmed. I didn't expect so much to come so fast, especially since..." He rubbed his chin intermittently; the skin had considerably more grain to it, and he suddenly desired a shave. Yes, it was much better to focus on that. He lolled his head to the side, and his brown gaze captured a loose string of fabric hanging from the other's sleeve. "In so many words, Tony, these last several days have been… not the best."

"You're telling me." Tony fell silent for a moment. He had much to say and ask. For instance, who was this so-called empath? But this wasn't a time to agitate things, not that he wanted to. "Have I told you I'm sorry yet?"

"No, but I—"

"—Well I am. And you," he noticed the heaviness of the doctor's eyes, the flushness of his face and neck, "you look like you're about to drop." Without skipping a beat, he slipped an arm around Banner's waist, guiding him to the small bed.

"Tony… I've gone through worse ."

"I know you have." With a curious gentleness, he sat him down. His lashes veiled a sobered concern, and he watched him carefully.

If Bruce's body could talk, it would be thanking the esteemed engineer. Despite himself, Bruce sank so readily into the berth; under normal circumstances it would have felt like a block of hay. Relief washed over him, and it took some effort not to release a contented hum. After a moment, he looked up and caught Tony's wary gaze on him. He swallowed and looked away. "Don't… look at me like that."

"Like what?" Tony feigned a look of confusion, fingers splayed just beside the feverish doctor's pillow. "Like I actually give a damn? Like you shouldn't be in here, yet you are?"

Again their eyes met in a brief pause, and all that could be had was a moment of nothing. Then suddenly, the doctor let out a real, hearty laugh; the outburst was startling. Seldom had he been able to pull such genuine amusement from himself. But _this…_ All this was just too _funny._ Life really was a circle, wasn't it? Parallels and situation-doppelgangers that led to the same things, just at different times. At his base, Tony would never not be what he was, and neither would Bruce. Was that such a bad thing? His chuckles were muffled by his hand, fingers partially hiding his eyes. God… All this trouble he caused… And _still_ Tony is the one taking care of him. When was he going to get the chance to return the favor?

"Uh, Bruce?"

His laughter died down. Lacing his fingers over his chest, he turned his head from Tony, a creep of a smile on his face. "Sometimes, you just gotta laugh it off. Life is funny. And you're funnier."

Tony had no quip for that. Instead, he offered a reminiscent smirk of his own. "Thanks, I think." There was a considerably long silence between them, and it was only natural for Tony to think of all they've yet to resolve. He didn't like being avoided, and the lengths Bruce went to do so… admittedly stung. Moreover, a very unhappy Pepper Potts awaited his return, and only tension waited for all three of them together. But it had to happen. The emotional strain was formidable, unsurmountable. Everything had to be laid out on the table, and whatever happened, happened. Misery was not on his To-Have list. But that time wasn't now.

"You, my dear Doctor, are an oddball. But that's what I like about you." He leaned down, boundaries pushed with velvet ease. His hand slipped under Bruce's pillow, pulling from it a semi-solid icepack. "Couldn't keep this on you earlier. Those cold flashes were tenacious." He gently laid it on his forehead. It was heaven.

"This… This is everything to me…" Said the doctor. He couldn't be more grateful for such sweet alleviation. If only the headache could abate. Exhaustion pulled his eyes shut once more, and his lips parted as he quietly sucked in air. His body was spent for the moment. A cold hand pressed to the side of his face, a voice he couldn't answer echoing in his waning consciousness.

His last memorable thought was one of comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, reader! Hopefully it's getting harder for you to choose who to empathize with here. Love and figuring out feelings is a sloppy, sloppy process, especially when things, or more notably, relationships, initially seemed so clean-cut. Ambiguity begins to set in and reaching the finish line you intended becomes that much more rewarding. But is that even an option for our science guys? Can two people, both broken in their own way, manage to become each other's matching piece?  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	13. Dominoes of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dominoes have fallen and led to this point in time. But why did the things that happened... happen? The past has left confusion and pain in its wake. Tony's made mistakes just as Bruce has... but he's just better at ignoring it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a delightful challenge! I've been wondering when and how the past would be introduced for a long time now, and with much revision, I'm proud of how this turned out. Exposition is this chapter's main priority. Hope you like it as much as I do!

_**One Year Ago**_

The Avengers were finally reaching the end of a days-long struggle with HYDRA. A formidable, persistent force, it survived the passing decades with a single motivation: worldwide dominion.

By dividing the heroes, they nearly conquered them. Psychological manipulation played a factor, of course. Wrong was wrong and right was right, and each Avenger knew the difference. But HYDRA had its tentacles in many affairs, and it knew things most enemy organizations should not. Things like the location of certain loved ones, background files, old dirt from the past. Then again, with a few moles planted here and there, it was to be expected. The one least susceptible to it all was Romanov. Her resolve was well-trained, and she had some mind games of her own. It was what led them all to Berlin.

An old base was stationed here, revived with plans of army-building and hacking various nuclear launch codes. "Missile #8 offline," Iron Man confirms over the intercom. "We're done here. Tell me things're wrapping up on your end."

"Looks like I'm finally about to make you happy." A winded Captain America tossed his shield at a soldier that just wouldn't stay down. "Widow and Hawkeye's taken out the bombs, and I've seized the apparatus. Come on around so we can finish this."

"Gotcha."

Within hours, SHIELD was all over the facility, agents commandeering all possible data and weaponry for the future. Surviving enemies were taken for interrogation and eventual incarceration. After all was said and done, Earth's heroes were promptly received by the Helicarrier.

It was now the government's unfortunate task to pick up the pieces, scars of battle riddled about.

Exhausted, a god, two agents, a supersoldier, a mechanic genius, and a radiated physicist all sat in seclusion. Dust and dirt covered their skin and attire, hair wild from battle. The low hum of four engines provided gentle background noise for their eventual chatter.

"For a second there, I almost thought we were bitin' it," Clint wiped down his remaining arrows with care. With his impeccable aim, it was no surprise he held onto a few of his best ones. "Crappy way to go, too, considering all we've been through."

"As if I'd let a bomb be the thing to end me." Natasha shifted in her seat, taking a long sip of her drink. "HYDRA has gotten rusty in its old age. I'm not opposed to it."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Steve rested his chin over his laced fingers, eyes set on a spot on the floor. "I **know** HYDRA. I know how their people operate. They'll plant and wait and deceive… and they'll try however many times it takes to get what they want."

"So… like every other asshole we've gone toe-to-toe with, basically." Tony chimed in, raising his glass to the Captain. "We're the best of the best. They try to get up, we beat 'em down. Now's a time to celebrate, Mr. Spry. I, for one, think we kicked ass today."

"Seconded." Thor voiced between bites of pizza. His hefty appetite called for two boxes between the group, and he was getting to work on his fourth slice. "I suggest a gathering at Tony's tower!"

"Not in that tattered mess, you don't. I'm a classy guy. Let's keep it classy."

"Classy, he says," Bruce mocked quietly, curled up into his chair. He sported an oversized burgundy henley shirt, a sly smile managing to shine past his tiredness. "Thor, Captain, be prepared to learn a looot about Duran Duran."

Tony hummed in unabashed agreement.

"What's a 'Duran Duran'?" The out-of-time soldier asked.

"Only the classiest band around." Stark humored. "It's time to expand your horizons."

The lights above were bright though not overbearing, the conditioned air everyone's comfort. It was time to head back to something familiar, something… tame. In a world so abundant with megalomaniacal psychopaths, downtime was, in a word, precious. It took a steeled mind and heart to stand up to those who constantly pushed the envelope of Armageddon. With each victory, the team grew stronger, and they grew together. So why was the doctor having so much trouble as of recent?

He glanced between the oblivious group before him, scanned their dirty, bruise and cut-riddled faces. This. _This_ had become his family. Its beginnings were rocky, tumultuous, and graceless, but he was used to those things. He was one side of a volatile coin… and was accepted regardless.

Cupping his face in his hands he used the excuse of fatigue to silently sort things out in his head. Everyone's voices became a quiet background garble, and he suddenly became aware of an inner pressure. Words seldom got under his skin, but something a HYDRA operative said swirled endlessly around his head:

_"You're an **object** , Doctor Banner. A tool. How you are now is just as your measly SHIELD wants you; you can't be had any other way. So keep pretending you're in control. Perhaps your sanity will withstand another few years…"_

"Banner." Thor tore through his quiet fixation. "Are you alright?" All eyes turned toward him.

"Hm? Oh—yes. I'm fine." He said nothing more, grabbing a slice of pizza.

Tony watched him a moment longer than everyone else, but ultimately returned to his conversation.

It was a 9-hour flight back to New York.

...

A few days had passed since the big battle. The two scientists were now returning from a mandatory press conference. It was all to ease the panic of recent events; numerous countries had begun to grow restless and fearful. They needed the Avengers to be their pillars of strength and security.

The air was nippy with late winter's breeze, swiping at the pair from the cracked windows of a Mercedes Benz. Tony was of course behind the wheel, all too eager to break in the new whip. Bruce fiddled with his tie in the passenger's seat, loosening it a bit. It was good to be away from probing eyes. "Correct me if I'm wrong," Tony started, "but I'd like to think that we're friends. Mutual confidants, if you will."

"…Yes?" Bruce gave him an odd look, rubbing the tie's material between his fingers.

"Good." Tony's finger tapped on the steering wheel, eyes set on the traffic ahead. "That's good. So, I figured I'd ask why you didn't tell me—or ANY of us for that matter—that Hulk's been giving you trouble lately." Bruce didn't feel inclined to respond. "…It could really hurt the team, not to mention you—"

"—I've dealt with him this long…" The physicist's digits moved from the tie and instead to his knee. He tapped rhythmically, gazing out at the passing city. "This doesn't make you the _Hulk Whisperer_ all of a sudden, I hope you know that. But still—how could you tell?"

Stark scoffed in humored disbelief. _Hulk Whisperer._ That was a new one. Then again, Bruce had been snippier than usual. It was pretty amusing at times… but that wasn't the question. "Well, I don't recall your eyes having the tendency to turn green at random. Plus, you've been on edge. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Bruce looked in the other's direction, lips forming a thin line as he gingerly brought his jacket further around himself. His gaze returned forward, and he was quiet for a few short seconds. No doubt Tony would pick up on the minute details; he had a keen enough eye for it. Especially when the small things about Bruce mattered to him more than the big ones. It was… refreshing. "I forgot who I was talking to." He resigned quietly.

"Clearly," said Tony. The Benz made a sharp right, avoiding what would have been another ridiculous stream of traffic. He wondered why he hadn't already built a flying car. "What do you usually do when the Roommate gets pushy? Should I order you a bong or somethin'?"

Bruce cracked a smile, unable to hold back the tiny chuckle that rolled forth. "Maybe I'll humor you one day, but no. Typically, I meditate. I find any way to center myself. But lately…" It'd been a task. Filling the mind with other, numerous occupations were a quick fix for the issue, but the brain could only accept so many empty calories. And the substance it needed drifted further away. Something was changing… and in all honesty, it frightened Bruce. His expression turned somber. "It's like he's pushing the boundary. Like he's getting more room and I'm getting less." Things certainly seemed great in the beginning. The Avengers Initiative was an opportunity to, in his eyes, redeem himself for all the hurt he'd caused. His life had a purpose beyond running. He didn't want to lose that. Never.

"All the more reason to say something, Bruce," Stark reprimanded. He slowed and turned into his private parking garage, the day's natural light replaced with artificial yellow.

The doctor nodded thoughtfully, gently tugging on his lower lip. "Perhaps. But if I don't have control, then what do I have?"

Tony parked as close to the exit as possible, giving the hardest of looks to the oblivious other. "You have _friends,_ Banner."

"Nooot if I lose control." Bruce unbuckled his seatbelt, unfazed by his own, warped thought process. "I'll just have to fight a little harder, that's all."

Silently, the pair headed up into Stark Tower.

**_Three Months Later_**

 

Trust was a beautiful, dangerous thing. It spoke volumes in the silence. It was a heartfelt nod, a willing step back. Tony decided to trust the mild-mannered doctor. He'd abided his request of not telling the rest of the team; there was no point in raising doubt if he could get a grip. That was his reasoning, at least. But the extra time it took to revert to normal didn't exactly go unnoticed, nor did his fatigue. No one thought it their business to investigate, though the Asgardian had tried in his own Thor-ish way to get Bruce to open up, small-talk, jesting and all. It didn't work.

Now, it was just him in the seclusion of his outpost lab, struggling with his other half.

Hands flat atop the counter, he breathed through his strain. Green both danced and drained from his skin, a verdant tinge persistent in the veins on his neck and temples. Eyes shut tight, he gathered his composure the best he could. He couldn't do this here. He was better than that. He was stronger than this. Sheer willpower crushed the outrageous strength daring to erupt from his frame. Eventually, it all went quiet, and he went lax against the aluminum-topped structure. Crisis evaded, for now. A shaky sigh escaped him.

What caused this? Well, he wasn't sure himself. Unsolicited anxiety and panic rushed him in the middle of his work… just the catalyst for the Other Guy to make an untimely appearance. Bruce lifted his head just enough to stare at the wall ahead. Did… Did _he…?_

"Why are you doing this." He droned tonelessly to the empty space, removing the spectacles already loose on his face. "I thought this was good for us both…" Brown eyes flitted over a toppled projection device, a blue image now displayed up on the ceiling. A small, brownish-red stone held up by mechanical forceps remained untouched, and that was good. The nearby laptop was also unscathed, though teetering on the counter's edge. He quickly saved it.

Perhaps the physicist had done this to himself.

This difficulty had only arisen in the recent months, progressively worsening with each Hulk-out. He chose that. And that was the mistake. In the past, he'd often wondered if the roles could ever be reversed. Could Hulk take the reins, leaving Bruce to be a mere occurrence? It seemed he'd given him that power in the recent years. Whereas he fought him before, he actively called upon his strength now. It was small wonder the behemoth was beginning to take hold.

After some minutes Bruce cleaned up the clutter of his works, calling it quits for the day. Fury wouldn't be getting his _Special Defense_ just yet. He had a lot to think about.

…

_Knock, knock._

The noise was strong, unhesitant.

And just as unwanted.

"I don't know that much about you, Fury," started Banner, back facing the entrance. He sat in a swivel chair, gently oscillating side to side.  
"But I'm sure you know the difference between sleeping quarters and conference rooms." It was the next day, and Bruce had retired to the upper levels of the building. He hadn't expected the Director to show up so soon.

"Well, you'd be right. As it turns out, however, we need strength _and_ tact to keep up with all these crazies comin' up out of the woodworks."

Fury had entrusted him, Tony, and a few others with a special project only brilliant minds could complete: Special Defense. A strange, reddish material had been mined from the rural Chihuahuan Desert, and it was promising. Resilient to the elements, transcending the conventional laws of physics, and emitting powerful though innocuous radiation unlike anything of this world, it was a power to be harnessed. Done right, Special Defense could help transport necessary parties anywhere in the world, thus extending their reach. There was also speculation that with enough material, it could shield the planet from any otherworldly harm. In some senses, it was a downgraded, though still valuable version of the Tesseract. It was what Bruce had been studying the day before.  
"I need a sum-up of your recent findings, Doctor."

Sigh.

"I've already forwarded my progress to you, albeit… halted. Now please," Bruce's shoulders tensed slightly, "it'd be smart to leave me be."

Fury's eye narrowed, caution at the ready. "And why's that?"

His answer was an amused exhale. Was that really a question anyone needed to ask anymore? The doctor finally turned around. Leg crossed over the other, he appeared calm and collected. But there was an aura about him, something… chilling. A small stress ball was victim to his grip, and he tossed it up into the air. Fury took one step back, unsure how to respond to the slight drop in his stomach. "You've often mentioned that… certain members of the team can be selfish…" There was a thoughtful pause. "Would you've guessed I'm selfish, too?"

"Never been a fan of riddles, Banner. Do I or do I not need to evacuate the premises?"

"I'd say not." It was Tony. He pushed into the room, sunglasses folded over the collar of his shirt. "At least, not until I have a word with him." Nick was about to protest, but then he remembered. Tony never feared him, not even in the beginning. Whatever this was… perhaps he could put out this fire before it ever started.

"First of all," Tony slowly advanced, hands in his pockets. "Why stay here, like this?"

Bruce shrugged a shoulder, tossing the ball up once more. "The facility's based relatively far from any major cities and communities. That, and I'm 99% sure there's a containment protocol in place… Right?" He looked accusingly at the Director, who said nothing. "It's alright. You can't completely trust a monster, after all."

"Bruce…" Tony gave a slight frown, not one of pity but hardened understanding. His hands lifted out of his pockets, now limp at his sides. He glanced back at Fury, and the Director silently departed, hoping for the best.

"Since last night, I've been seeing… visions. Things I know the Hulk has seen. Like our memories are… blending. I feel as though they're about to swallow me whole."

"So let them." Bruce looked up to see a face that was almost apathetic, cold. "Thus concludes Doctor David Bruce Banner. No muss, no fuss. Yeah?"

"…What are y—"

"—Nope. My turn to talk. You said you'd handle this, and I chose to believe you. I believed you and yet I fly here to find you _resigning_ to some new ground rules set by the Big Guy. Tell me something: Who came first?"

Bruce stood, eye to eye with the engineer. His brown eyes were no longer such. "You don't know me. Not as much as you think."

Tony stared into green. "Oh, I know you. I don't think you know _me._ " He was sick of seeing Bruce caught in his own trap, sick to the point of ire. This had been a growing issue, one he hadn't addressed, mainly out of hope that it would solve itself. But that clearly wasn't happening. If Hulk truly was looking to take over, he wanted to get through to him whatever way he could, use his sharp tongue as a weapon. And maybe, in the process, the doctor would snap out of it. Tony needed to see that determined spark in Banner's eyes. He wasn't sure why. "You think you're gonna get the response you want—forget it. I'm not some milquetoast you can scare off with a snarl." The stress ball dropped to the ground.

Doctor Banner shut his eyes, cracking his neck. Green dared to show on his collarbone, and he spoke a volume just above a whisper. "You and your enormous ego **aren't** Hulk-proof. Now get out."

"Y'know, I would, but that just wouldn't be me." Tony tilted his head. "Like I said, you have _friends,_ idiot. Even when you lose control."

But how did he know that? Of course, he was all too inclined to believe he had the full story. Ohh, he just had Banner pegged. He knew all the ins and outs, thorns and roses of him. Except he didn't. Banner was good at keeping things to himself, very good, in fact. So how, then, could Stark so confidently say he'd stand behind a dazed, confused mess such as himself? What did he know that Banner didn't?

Tony looked at Bruce, and Bruce looked away. He decided the gloves were coming off. "I know you're pissed. But you know what pisses me off about you? You don't give a damn about yourself. Not really. You smile and beguile, but I know you're just itching for an escape route. And you wanna hear what's super insulting? These months roll by, you tell us nothing, and expect us all to just drop you like a dirty penny. Not how it works. I just wanna know… Why?" The dark-haired billionaire paced back and forth, glaring at the other all the while. "Why put up a years-long fight only to drop from the race?"

"Quiet..."

"We've all got demons. Why give into yours? And why not sooner, huh?"

"I said be quiet."

"Up until this point you've clearly had some principle to uphold. So what changed? Where's that _real_ strength? …Or can the doctor not answer right n—HNG!"

The air was knocked out of Tony as he hit the far wall. Like a ragdoll, he crumbled to the floor and watched through dizzied eyes as Bruce advanced. But he wasn't Bruce anymore. Clothes tore. A body grew. Malice propelled.

Stark rose to his feet and ran before Hulk could land a blow. He could hear the crumbling of the walls as the rage monster forced his way through the narrow corridor. Miscellaneous workers all evaded their path, and an evacuation was quickly announced on the loud speaker. Pulling up his sleeve, he spoke into his watch. "Jarv, I'm gonna need some assistance!"

_"At once."_

Though moments felt like minutes, facets of his suit soon jetted toward him, assembling and securing themselves around his winded frame. Adrenaline rushing through his system, Iron Man flew into a somersault, now behind the danger. The suit's system quickly calculated weak points, and missiles were locked in. A direct hit to the back of the legs and head. The assailant stumbled forward, grunting in surprised pain. "Right here, Mean Green." Whirling around, the Hulk grabbed onto Iron Man's leg and the propellant mods worked on maximum burn. Rubble littered the facility floor as they both crashed through the ceiling; no one needed to be caught in this crossfire.

"GodDAMN it, Stark!" Nick glared through the ruin, fists balled tight. "You better know what you're doin'…"

The skies were blue, clear as a monk's mind. This SHIELD building was based at a remote desert, and its serenity created a stark contrast to the current contention. Local fauna swayed in the dry winds, silent spectators to the spat.

Hulk's grip was unforgettable. Stark could feel the metal closing around his calf, the pain seeping in. Once out of the building's range, he opened his hand and let the behemoth receive a faceful of pure energy. Singed, he had no choice but the let go, releasing a pained roar as he descended. Dust was kicked up by the fall, reverberation stretching wide. But as the air cleared, the metal-clad fighter knew all he did was make him angrier. He faltered in the air, and that's when he realized the mechanics in his leg had been damaged. It sputtered and sparked, and he quickly touched down.

"It doesn't have to be this way." The Hulk wiped furiously at his eyes, green skin marked with soot. Once his vision was clear, the only one in his sights was Iron Man. A sickened grimace settled on his face. "…Or maybe it does."

Hulk charged him, pushing him into a furrow in the dry desert ground. His strength was overwhelming, and the metal that protected the man also rattled him. Shaken, he called upon Jarvis to fire the projectiles as soon as there was an opening.  
They halted in the dirt. Hulk raised his fists high and received two missiles to the stomach. Virtually ineffective.

Iron Man rolled out of the hole, preparing a game plan when a fist slammed against his side. Hard. "AAAGH!" The red metal caved almost willingly, and excruciating pain shot through his ribs. He wheezed in shock, and he hunched forward. The suit still had him covered, however. Mini turrets emerged from the shoulders and arms, providing a barrage of fire to keep the Big Guy back some. They pelted him for a time, and the engineer did his best to create some distance.

Caught in such blind rage, Hulk had no empathy or regret or remembrance. He was slave to what he did best, and all he knew was Iron Man did something to Bruce, which meant he did something to _him._ He didn't like being pushed around… not even as his milder other half.

The ammo wasn't limitless, and eventually stopped coming. It was no longer a matter of fight or flight. Tony just had to get out of there. The shutters opened on the suit in preparation for flight, but it was short-lived. Just as he lifted off, Hulk grabbed his thigh with a grip more incredible and more damaging than the last. The armor didn't stand a chance, and it crunched like soft plastic under his titanium grasp. Tony let out another, agonized scream, bone and ligaments crushed with merciless immediacy. He could feel the grisly displacement beneath the flesh. Fire and knives danced inside him, and he genuinely wondered if Hulk was going to kill him. Before he could even fathom the pain he was in, his head met hard with the monster's in a headbutt, and he fell back, incapacitated.

His faceplate lifted, blood oozing from his swelling nose and busted lip. "B-Bruce... Bruce…" He whispered. With a shaky hand he reached up, pleadingly. The Hulk faltered, and small realization twinkled in his eye. Tony's metal-clad hand fell limp to the ground… and there was silence.

"That's enough. I think you've made your point."

_PING._

_PING._

_PING._

_PING._

Hulk stared confusedly at the metal cuffs secured around his wrists and ankles, grunting.

Fury came into view, fiery and stoic at once. The behemoth seethed, then quickly approached. Saying nothing, the Director raised his fist above his head. There was a brief pause… then he opened his hand. With lighting speed, four, silver spheres rushed from the building, hovering near their cousin clasps. Suddenly, Hulk couldn't move. The spheres hummed loudly as they took their places, two hovering above his head, and the other two on the ground. Hulk's hands were yanked upward, clasps attracted to them. "Try anything. The field will match your strength every time."

**"RAAAAH!"**

"Now, you're going to calm down. Look at what you did to Stark. Your teammate." He gestured, and the wide-eyed rage monster stared at the still figure just feet away. "You tore down someone you were supposed to fight alongside with, protect. Our best medics are going to try and fix what you did. And you'd better hope he lives."

**_Today_**

 

Tony watched over the unconscious doctor a few minutes more, unknowingly rubbing the side of his head. There was a scar there, hidden beneath the hair. The fracture was fairly quick to heal, and the least painful. He never really paid much attention to his cicatrices, unless he happened to be in front of a mirror. They were just… part of him now, for better or worse. It wasn't pretty, but then, neither was he.

 _Man is often more fragile than his reflection,_ his father used to say. _Can you look yourself in the eye, well aware of who you are, and not shatter?_

In the Stark family, few things were more important than pride. The public eye would always be hungry, and with the mantle passed to him, he hadn't a choice but to carry that pride. It was ingrained in him, his father's memory. His mother… she was his heart, a voice above voices. The love and wisdom she imparted weathered his jagged edges, protected him as he was forced so soon to live without his parents. And so, his scars… They were worn with poise. They were smiled upon. It had to be that way.

Bruce shifted on the berth, muttering quietly. He was stable, and all was well. It was time to go. Turning on heel, he headed for the exit. He really didn't want to get his head chewed off by Fury, but better now than later.

…

"I hope you know that you and only you will be dealing with the press. What the hell were you thinking?" Nick had been waiting for Tony at the jet runway, the tails of his trench coat fluttering as the winds picked up. Winter was approaching once more.

"I was thinking we needed him back."

"We ALL thought that, Stark. I meant what were you thinking not telling anyone you found him?" The way he left, there was no telling how dangerous he'd be if he returned. After what happened, Tony was crazy not to inform him who was sitting right under everyone's noses. "Do you not recall that he almost—"

"—I remember." The billionaire drew nearer, brace clicking. He didn't look at him, however, eyes set on the horizon of a setting sun. "I was stupid. I wanted to be the one to bring him in, better than he was before."

Fury gave him a peculiar look. "…Why? Don't you feel even an inkling of caution, or… resentment?"

Tony shrugged. "One thing you don't know is I was asking for it. I was in a bad headspace that day, and I essentially goaded him into it. I think it was… a test to me." He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his dark eyes, a habit picked up from the doctor. "I need to see the people around me thriving. Hell if it's my place to oversee it, but I do anyway. I feed off of that, because if I can have a hand in fixing some _one_ or some _thing,_ then maybe…" His brow twitched as he went silent, and his gaze was almost wistful in the open air. "…I was stupid."

He expected everyone to brush over it as fast as he would… even Pepper. He especially wanted her to be sure that all was well and copacetic, going so far as to force them in each other's company. But she wasn't the type of person to forget. Deep down, she could never truly forgive Bruce for what he did—or what Tony had him do. And now, that resentment had only grown. No one thought like Tony. He was the man that shattered before his reflection, yet still appeared kept together.

So his life was worth a test. To what ends, Fury had an idea, but such sensitive subjects weren't his area of expertise.

He cleared his throat. "…What's done is done, I suppose. But Doctor Banner will be staying put for a while. We need to evaluate some things."

"I get it." Said Tony. He buttoned his jacket and stuffed his hands into his wool-laced pockets. "I got some stuff of my own to sort out in the meantime."

"Hm. The rest of the team's gonna be pretty pissed at you."

Tony managed a smirk. "When aren't they?" He limped to his aircraft, giving a final glance of acknowledgement to the seasoned Director. Fury nodded, watching as he boarded.

Within moments, he took to the skies.


	14. Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets some answers to his questions. Bruce is reunited with concerned friends. For now, they are apart, but their presence is very much felt in other ways.

An exhausted Tony leaned against the walls of the building foyer, having dealt with the last of the ravenous reporters. They'd get their grimy hands on anything that even hinted at being a story, and the Hulk's return was everyone's big break. There were a ton of questions he couldn't even answer.

_Was Hulk returning to the Avengers?_

_What got under the unstoppable monster's skin?_

Not a clue. And without Bruce there to defend himself, people made their own, fearful conclusions about what happened. _"He went rogue." "He's still out there, god knows where, rampaging."_ The property damage didn't help. It'd take some time to get everything spick and span again. No doubt headlines would be raving about this for weeks. Joy.

"Well, Fury, you meant what you said." He rolled his shaded eyes, about ready to collapse. "Taxing" wasn't even the word to describe all this. But if it meant the press wouldn't be up Bruce's ass, then it was well worth it. He wondered now how he was doing. Hopefully broke the fever. Hopefully… in a good mental place. At least they had a little chat before he flew back. It had been a little over 20 hours since then, 4 in the afternoon. The engineer pushed himself off the wall, beelining for the elevator when dear old Jarv stopped him.

_"Mr. Stark, there is an 'Isis' outside demanding that she see you."_

"Well tell her her demands can't be met right now. I've handfed every stray journalist within a 10-mile radius."

_"But Sir… she isn't a reporter."_

Stark rolled his eyes. "That's riveting."

_There was a pause. "She says Bruce has been going to see her."_

Saying nothing, Tony pulled his phone from his back pocket, tapping a modified icon. The device was now linked to the security camera outside, and an older woman was seen looking around impatiently. Her greyed locks fell freely beneath her hat, strands caressing her urgent expression in the pushing winds. She wasn't supposed to be here; caution tape was stretched around the area. "Mm." So _she_ was the helpful empath Banner was talking about. He lowered the phone with half a mind to just leave her there, but then he reconsidered. He activated the mic. "Hi there. What do you want?"

"Mr. Stark?" The woman glanced around before leaning in closer. "My name is Isis. Isis Whittaya. What happened is my fault. I _need_ to clear the air. Please."

Stark remained silent longer than was necessary, watching her anxiety grow before finally unlocking the entrance door. There was an indicative buzz and click. Isis strode in graciously. "Thank you." Her smoky gaze took in the refined interior with brief awe. She breathed in the scent of waxed flooring and notes of Hawaiian Breeze… The high and functional ceilings gleamed in fluorescence, and it all was beautiful and alluring… but it wasn't why she was here. The genius billionaire greeted her tepidly, brows arched high.

"Okay, _Isis,_ you're in. Frankly, I'm very tired and very agitated and very concerned, so… you know."

The woman held onto her bracelets, seemingly for comfort. "I do know." Eyes turned downward, she drew in a silent breath. "Bruce has been actively searching for ways to heal himself, which eventually led him to me. …He _has_ told you of me, yes?"

"Just yesterday, yeah."

Isis sighed, relieved. Yesterday. "That means he's alright."

"'Alright' is… a very loose term." Tony folded his arms defensively. "What else you got?"

Stark wasn't the least bit moved. It was basic information, after all. But not all things could properly be expressed through words. Her petite hands raised, hovering on either side of his head. "May I?" It was going to take a few days of meditation to filter out the doctor's emotional essence from her own, and she had quite a bit to share.

Alarm flashed in his eyes, but he steeled himself and clenched his jaw. If this is what she did to Banner, he wanted to know.

"Alright."

She gently cupped his face. " _Know_ him."

It was only for a few short seconds, but so much came so fast. Joys and miseries, hopes, wishes, and bitter, forged realities. This was Banner's sweet pain. It ebbed and flowed, pricked like thorns into Tony's heart yet enveloped it in warmth. It was saccharin-acerbic, mourning intertwined with love. Fear hovered persistently like a vulture over these things, opportunistic and hungry. Trauma was its bigger, badder cousin, just a little closer to the kill. But hope climbed inside him, tattered and frayed at the ends though resilient all the same. That was strength. And it was held for a few people… but for Tony especially. There was confusion and fear around that, a perturbing little everything that trounced his mind every so often. But curiosity rose from it… a desire to step away from hurt.  
Stark's heart pounded, his pupils dilated. He understood more now than he ever did before. All this in a moment's time.

Isis released her hold. She averted her gaze as he gasped, finding himself in this here and now moment once again. "...I-I—how…?" He stammered out. How could he have missed so much?

"What you felt was a sample of what I've gathered. I attempted to find the root of Bruce's pain and I pushed too far. The horror of watching your own mother get… No child should have to go through that." The woman shook her head, sickening pangs of panic striking through her chest. "He's about the most complex man I've ever come across. He's hurt, yet he's near indestructible. He smiles in his agony and bleeds through his delights. I'm sure you're aware, but he's trying hard to fight his darkness. And I think with you… he's winning that battle. Please don't let go of him. Especially not now."

"That's not happening." Tony was still very much processing this new information, soaring and sinking inside. His eyes met hers. "There're 8 million people in this city. You could've worked your magic on any one of them. So why him?"

"Because I've always wanted a crack at the notorious David Bruce Banner." She admitted with a shrug of her shoulders. There was shame in her tone, but her sad smile masked it to some degree. "You don't think word of someone like that gets around? It spread like _wildfire._ I was in South Africa when I first heard of him. All that anger and frustration just… radiated out of him through the television set. I was intrigued, and I thought that was all I'd ever be… at least, until I moved here. Admittedly, I've grown overconfident in my abilities; I was so sure I could be the one to get the first real look at a mind like that. To save him. But what I've seen… it hurts me." Bowing her head, she covered her mouth, quietly exclaiming something in another language.

Tony stared in silence, swallowing. So he'd been little more than a plaything to her, like a torn doll she just had to fix. It was selfish and righteous all at once. Something about that seemed awfully familiar. But now, remorse carried a weight in the air, and he could feel it. Whatever she saw made her have a change of heart. "So you've seen as well as felt what he's gone through… that doesn't quite match up with the definition of an empath."

"Yes. I have very, very minor telepathic abilities. They allow me into the memories of my clients, but nothing more. I cannot read minds, only feelings. Therefore, I see it only as something that magnifies my empathic prowess. For example, Mr. Stark, I see you have your own buried pain." The observation was unwanted, but she pushed just a tad more. "You deal with it a bit differently. In a way others cannot see. In a way perhaps you believe you cannot change. But I'm not here to pull teeth. I _am_ curious, however," her voice lowered a tad, and her eyes narrowed softly. "In all this, did Bruce share that I predicted your… coupling?"

"Ahhm—?"

"—Hello, there." It was Pepper. She looked rather cozy, donning a dark tank top and baggy pajama pants. A small cup of ice cream was held in one hand, a filled spoon in the other. She took a bite.

"Oh… Hello… Ms. Potts."

"Wonderful, so you DO know who I am."

"In essence, yes. I'm sorry to impede—"

"—No you're not. But I'll be damned if I'm not a good hostess. Stay a while. I bet these last two days've been a drag. How about some brunch?" Taking another gratuitous spoonful, the woman offered a contemptuous smile. Isis nearly shuddered. The angry fumes emanating from this one were potent enough to create another Hulk. Tony glanced between the two, deciding he couldn't gawk any longer.

"Actually, Peps, she was just leaving. Don't worry yourself."

"Not worrying." Potts corrected. She sauntered up to Tony and hooked her arms around the back of his neck in an odd embrace, eyeing the empath. "I insist, actually." Another spoonful of the confection went into her mouth, and the coldness of the container kissed Stark's shoulder.

"Hon…" Tony gently placed a hand on her back, and almost immediately she pulled from him. Instead, she sidestepped her questionable boyfriend and stood before the elusive woman.

"I want to understand some things. What makes you think you can puppeteer the lives of strangers? At some point, it weighs on the conscience, no?" The inquiry nearly elicited a chortle from the empath. How presumptuous. The woman, however, was very good at remaining emotionally detached, if she so desired. It was practically a requirement, all things considered. Right now, Miss Potts was charged and insecure, and it would only be foolish to take that bait.

"I'm… sorry you see it that way, darling."

"Well maybe you can flip my perspective over some chilaquiles. Or do you prefer casserole?"

Tony placed a hand on Pepper's shoulder and received a harsh glare. "Look, Peps, let's not prolong the uncomfortable. It's extremely un-fun. And I'm pretty sure Isis doesn't want any brunch."

"Oh, she WANTS some brunch. And I want some answers!"

"Ah, yes. Leaving now." Isis took the opportunity to slip out the door, the pair's bickering continuing uninterrupted. She wasn't very much one for conflict, and she'd already said her words. She laid bare the truth. The rest was up to them, respectfully so. Small shards of glass crunched beneath her heel, remnants of her mistake. She had insurance on her business and property, so it wasn't much of a concern. Still, that proved the flaw of her power: it was unpredictable at times. Emotion is a volatile force all on its own, but couple it with unpleasantries of the past, mental hurdles, or pure circumstance…

Predicting the future was an even higher gamble. Prevising emotions and events yet to come often bore no better fruit than watching it all transpire in real time. People make unforeseeable choices in the moment. Joy can beget fear. Love can beget denial. And so, things turned out less than pretty here. But despite everything, Banner remained something beautiful. He wanted to help others, though others hurt him. He wanted no one to worry for him, though he often worried for others. Only a person like him could shoulder the burdened blessing of his other half.

And right now, only one person could give him what he needed… if he let him.

"Oh, my…" Isis gazed up at the building-crowded sky, unable to help the smile spreading on her face as she suddenly realized something:

She just spoke to Tony Stark.

Indeed, he oozed a unique charm much spoken of, and hid a shadow self that went pallid beneath his good deeds. He was three men, rolled into one, a smorgasbord of potential beyond his wretched, beautiful mistakes. It made her curious and fascinated… a little bit giddy. It wasn't everyday she got to catch a glimpse of the world of Mr. Stark.

Her childlike giggles were easily drowned out by the sounds of fervent construction.

"Miss, what're ya doin' here? This area is off limits!"

Right.

…

A needle was pulled from an arm. Minutes passed, steadily.

Stir.

Stir.

Awake.

A drowsy Doctor Banner slowly opened his brown eyes, no longer dizzy and hot.

An extended rest was induced intravenously by a SHIELD-associated doctor. Said doctor departed once Bruce began to come around, per unanimous request; it would be less stressful, per past experiences. He ran his hand down his face, slowly remembering where he was, and what happened. So very sluggish.

"Easy. Welcome back, Bruce." Chimed a voice off to the side. That wasn't Tony. It wasn't Director Fury, and it definitely wasn't Jarvis. He lowered his hand and propped himself up.

"Mn… Steve?"

"Not just him." A large, strong hand clasped onto his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

Thor. And Clint. And Natasha, too. But this was no mission. No end-of-the-world circumstance. They bore their company in approachable attire, their friendly gazes all trained on him. Natasha leaned in for a hug, and he slowly brought his arms around her, in utter shock. "What're you all… doing here?"

"Whoa, no hellos, heys, or happy-to-see-yous?" The skilled archer leaned in. There was, as ever, a mischievous though charming gleam in his eye, as if he were waiting for the perfect moment to crack a joke. "It's been a while, don't ya think?"

Bruce shrank. "…It… it has… Where am I?"

"A surveillance base in the outskirts of Ohio." Clint hummed, taking a glance at himself in the placed mirror. "They didn't tell you?"

He was closer than he thought. "No." Happiness dared blossom inside him, though he remained cautious, ashamed. "I didn't think… I'm—" He was interrupted by a coughing fit, suddenly made aware of his parched throat.

The level-headed Captain handed him the cup of water waiting at his bedside. "We know." The doctor gingerly took it, chugging it down eagerly. With a shaky sigh, he paused, taking in the surreal moment. He'd wanted to see them all ages ago, but no time seemed right. In fact, the weight of his thoughts now locked his jaw, and he knew not what to say. His palm gently wiped at his welling eyes.

"Whatever you're worried about, Bruce, don't be. We're glad to see you." Natasha smiled warmly at the physicist. It faltered for only a moment, and her brow twitched with subtle curiosity. "You look terrible, by the way."

"So I've been hearing…" Though he jested, there was a quiver in his voice. His fingers pushed through his moppy curls. "But you all look great. I was getting a little tired of hearing about you through word of mouth."

"So why the big leave, then?" Clint asked bluntly. Everyone was thinking it, and everyone wanted a valid explanation. They deserved it.

The doctor nursed his cup a few seconds more before setting it aside. His friends cleared the way as he stood, stretching his cramped muscles and limbs. They were hard pressed, yet he seemed to take his time. With a satisfied sigh, he glanced around at their expectant faces, buttoning up his crinkled shirt. "All those years learning to coexist with my inner monster, only to turn around and screw up in such a big way. Why would you think I'd want to stay?"

"It was a mistake," Thor tried. "We all make those. Had you been in the right mind—"

"—Uh-uh." Bruce shook his head. "I'm taking onus here; it was my choice. I chose to ignore the red flags to feed this… _high_ of having a greater purpose." His earthy eyes stared down at his palms, lines creasing around his mouth and chin. "That high was too good." He focused his attention on the Captain, one of the most grounded people he knew. Roger's strength and integrity was the glue to this whole thing, a constant one could always count on. "Hulk was taking me over and I was too inconsiderate to let it be known. I didn't want to be weak. I couldn't anymore."

Everything he didn't want to do, he'd ended up doing. Everything he didn't want to be, he'd ended up being. His greatest failure? He couldn't keep the promises he made to himself.

"You forget, Banner. We know you well, and you are anything but weak. Why, you're almost as strong as me!" Odinson jabbed, at which the doctor gave a wilted smile. It wouldn't be very human not to feel remorse. As much as it ached, he couldn't wish it away. And with his recent progress, perhaps that wasn't such a tragedy anymore.

"Thor's right." Steve stepped into the foreground. "Well, I'm not sure about that second part, but… All that's water under the bridge now. The real mystery is what made you come back? We all know _who,_ and you could've easily refused. So what was it?"

"Good question." The doctor nodded thoughtfully, meeting the soldier's sterling gaze. In his neurotic fashion, he wrung his hands, and he thought deeply about his answer. "Perhaps deep down… I didn't want to die that night." No one said anything. Tony's forgiveness was something he never thought he'd receive, much less deserve. His constant vocal protests veiled the endless, silent gratitude he would have otherwise felt. It only grew harder to leave as things got more… complicated. He thought back to those things he said to Stark. His epiphany. The moment. The almost foreign warmth of its mutuality. He swallowed, and he quickly wondered what the others could gather from his unguarded visage. "…Sorry, everyone, but I really, really, really would like to find a shower."

"Bath's three doors down to the left, the nurse said." Barton offered. "Meet us at the café on the ground floor. We'll have lunch."

…

A good 40 minutes had passed and the doctor was cleansed, refreshed, and donning crisp, new clothes. He toweled his damp curls the best he could, and after brushing his teeth, he got a good look in the mirror. He looked better. Felt better. And also hungry. His glasses were plucked from the sink and clipped onto his shirt pocket.

Signs plastered to the walls guided him through the building. It was chilly and quiet and lifeless. People were tucked away in their offices maintaining communication or surveying airspace. Cameras lined the halls, however, and he stared into them boldly. Why was everything so hush-hush? There would at least be a few agents sprinkled about the corridors, rushing to their respective posts. At least some lighthearted chatter or talk of the day's tasks. But there was none of that. Perhaps they were ordered to avoid him. That wasn't… disagreeable. He rolled his neck and sighed, making the hard choice to ignore it all. He approached the cafeteria. The familiar group was spotted sitting off to the left once he strode in. "Well, I took longer than I…" he trailed off, raising a brow as the four Avengers ceased their chitchat. It was obvious he was the subject of conversation, though they each greeted him with bright eyes. "Ahem. Hi."

Not long after, they were piling their trays with what the café had to offer. The atmosphere was heavy and abrasive, though there seemed to be an attempt at covering that up.

"Something I miss?" Banner asked lightly, taking his seat at the table. The others joined him one by one.

"Bruce," Natasha started gently, cautiously, "how have you been, living with him?"

"Yeah. Tony Smartass thought it wasn't important to maybe clue us in on that." Clint eyed the gratuitous portion of bacon atop his plate, deciding which to pluck first.

Bruce chuckled between bites. "Tony Smartass. I'll have to use that." He looked up to see the archer's expectant and hardly amused face. "…Odds are he kept quiet for my sake. I was in a deep fog; anything could've scared me off again." His gander returned to his plate as he cute slowly and gently. "But I've been doing better. A lot better."

Natasha observed every nuance on her dear friend's face, but only for a few nonthreatening seconds. There was an unusual softness in his eyes. And the way his fingers fidgeted over the table. The upturned corners of his lips. What he said was the truth. "It's good to have you back. There's been a hole in the team since you left."

Banner gave a gentle nod of apology and understanding. "It's good to be back." His wanton vagary afforded him nothing but the sorrows to hollow out his heart. It was so… old. So unpleasant and sticky as if it needed him. So bountiful in irrationality. He believed in it; it was easy to. But among friends, his willpower didn't have to come only from himself. "I can't lie—all those long months spent running—it was exhausting. I couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Couldn't… _be._ Tony did for me what I couldn't do for myself." His knife spread cream cheese over his bagel, the smooth blade going round and round the toasted surface for far too long. "Perhaps I wouldn't be climbing this ladder again if I'd stayed put. But that's just what I'm meant to do, I think."

Rogers took hold of the conversation, thoroughly unsettled. "There's more than one way to run, you know."

The doctor blinked and his unseeing eyes realized how long he'd been fretting over the food in his hand. "I do know. I'm the self-appointed expert on that, Cap." Setting the knife down, he took a bite, giving a satisfied hum. "You do realize how painfully obvious it is, right? That this is a toned-down questioning?"

"We need to know what's been going on."

"So I'm stuck here 'til that happens?"

The group said nothing. Bruce tapped on his knee in quiet agitation. Something in him rose, then settled once more, like a drowsed beast. He was doing it again. "…Sorry." He took a sip of his cold drink and sighed.

Beneath everyone's gladness was an anger that could only be quelled by the doctor's word… and Tony's immediate ass-kicking. Fury notified the group almost immediately after Banner's impromptu arrival. It was an agreeable means to a necessary end: get him to open up to those he deeply trusted, and in the process get some context to these last few, silent months. The question of Banner's stability was still up in the air, and until he'd proven he was no longer a threat to himself or others, he couldn't leave. Tony's approval or disapproval meant nothing now; he'd been willing to endanger the city of New York for a reason that would never be good enough.

"Unfortunately, it isn't up to us," The Captain spoke up. "Had it been, you'd be out of here the moment we cleared our plates. The way you left last time… We need to make sure things are different now."

The doctor laced his fingers over the white tabletop. "That's fair."

It took a while, but after Fury talked Hulk down, Banner was back, face-to-bloodied-face with what he'd ended up doing that day. He watched an unconscious Tony be airlifted to the nearest infirmary. He forced himself to stay close by, under the crushing weight of his own guilt, and make sure Tony's eyes opened again. He agonized over his hospital bed, whispering apologies to him, his teammates, and especially Pepper. And then finally, he disappeared. It was a self-inflicted punishment, a deep-seated woe that even Hulk couldn't rise above… not for a while. It was what saved Banner, and what hurt him.

_Bzzzzt._

_Bzzzzt._

____

____

Romanov's vibrating cell snapped everyone back. She pulled it from her inner jacket pocket, thin brow raising at the screen. "It's Tony." She tapped "Answer", laying the phone down for everyone to hear. "He lives."

"Forever and always. So do you wanna kill me or what?"

"Definitely," Clint chimed from across the table.

Natasha smirked. "A little. What you did was stupid and underhanded... but we're glad to see him."

There was a short pause on the other end. "How is he?"

"Ask him yourself." She eyed the physicist, nudging the cell a little closer.  _No, no, no,_ he mentally pleaded. He didn't have the energy to pretend everything was the same between them. But eyes were on him, and pretend he surely would. He took Widow's phone awkwardly in his hand, swallowing quietly.

"Tony."

"Bruce."


	15. Around the Bush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Tony talk about some things. Questions are no longer questions, and the answers were never answers. It's been there all this time, but a blind eye is a blind eye. Good or bad. Right or wrong. It was always, and it was now known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there. I know it's been a couple of months, and I'm sorry. Writer's block and my own perfectionism put a bit of a delay on things. I just wanted to thank you guys for sticking with me, and appreciating me just as much as I appreciate you. A writer is literally nothing without a reader, and I hope to push out these chapters a little faster from now on!

Tony was perusing the fridge for anything interesting. His eyes were wide with a residual something, and he chose to instead focus on the physicist's voice. "You sound better."

"You sound… not."

"Yeah, well, pobody's nerfect." Right now, Stark was drifting between two mentalities. He had quite a lot to say, but that wasn't possible with an audience.

Nice to know the whole team was back together. But it wasn't under the best circumstances. It was all a little frustrating, a cage of happenstance. He grabbed all the necessary ingredients for a hearty salad, tucking a bag of romaine lettuce between his teeth. "Met your, uh, _friend_ earlier. She seemed nice." The refrigerator door was nudged shut.

"My friend…? Oh. Right. I told you about that."

"You sure did, Bruce." The following silence was so pregnant even the others could feel it. No one dared ask. Unspoken words piled ever higher on the engineer's tongue. How he wished for something to whisk them all away.

"Hey," Rogers asserted. "Is there something you wanna share, possibly?"

"Can't say there is, Stars 'n Stripes. Not my place. But if you wanna hear my opinion on your recent fashion choices…"

"Uh, Natasha," Bruce gently interrupted, "do you mind if I speak to him, privately?"

The trained agent performed her usual, subtle analyses on the doctor before handing him the phone. "Go ahead." The moment wreaked of broken context swept under the carpet… Of something clearly neither genius wanted to be known. It was deep and unusual, the agent could see that. And her inquisitive mind raced for answers. She would know something when he came back.

Thanking Natasha, Bruce excused himself, stepping outside the café doors. "Okay. Just you and me now." A short, staccato sigh sounded from the other end. There was this sense of anticipation, a swell of tension… but not a word spilled forth. "Uh, hello?"

"…? Oh, sorry. It's just been… a day." Stark's eyes wandered to a near-half-drunken bottle of wine off to the side. Induced mellowness inched further into his mind, pushing rationality out. The knife in his hand was held with a bit more liberty, and his movements were slow and viscous. The copper blade sliced into a tomato, red juice dribbling onto the cutting board. Chop, chop, chop. It was more satisfying than it should have been. "I see why you like Isis. What she does is—is eye-opening. Borderline transcendent. She saved me possible YEARS of chipping away at your little—bullshit blockade."

The muffled blade snipped into the doctor's ear. "…What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Tony helped himself to another sip of the drink, straight from the bottle. "Pretty sure Pepper's leaving me, by the way." Clicking his tongue, he sighed, not caring for discretion.

Bruce's stomach took a nosedive. "What?"

"That's right, I didn't tell you she saw us. She's always had a great poker face." Lolling his head to the side, he raised a brow as if the doctor could see him. The silence on the other end spoke volumes. Inhibition no longer had a hold on Tony, and something akin to peaceful agony settled in the trench of his heart. He straightened his sleeve, discarded bits of avocado and vegetables with a few graceless swipes over the cutting board. "But that wasn't the straw. We had a fight. Said some words. At the end of it, I told her that… you can give me something she can't." His voice cracked in a way Bruce hadn't heard in a long time.

Virginia "Pepper" Potts. Tony was certain they'd be together til' the end of their days. But there were some things missing that he'd been willing to ignore for so long. Understanding. Patience. Empathy. And perhaps she could say the same.

A swirl of giddiness and guilt churned within the doctor, and he couldn't tell which of the two he felt more of. A lonely, pining heart would surely soar in a moment like this. But, a reasonable, experienced one would know restraint. The confusion was a nuisance, and it all became an ordeal of eggshells. Nonsense. This was all nonsense, and he was shutting it down. "No. I'm not—Whatever you think I can do for you, it's not worth her." Nerves gripping him, he paced back and forth in the hall, shoes squeaking quietly. "You have to fight for her. I never wanted to get in the way of that."

"But you did," Tony said mid-chuckle, sniffling loudly. "You did." Ingredients were tossed together in a large bowl.

Silence trickled in, an uncomfortable but inevitable intermission. The doctor slipped through the cracks, seeped into him like acid. It turned _him_ acid, burned bridges and preconceptions alike. It was slow and very cunning. The hard truth. Stark drew in a long breath through his parted lips, the warmed air filling him with some degree of comfort. "I solve all my problems. I'm good at it. But thanks to you, I realize I'm not."

A soft "clank" reached Bruce's ears over the line. "Are you—are you drinking?" The inquiry seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"Most days, I don't feel… like a person. I've always had to be somebody… to somebody. A symbol, a face, a stuntman. Small scale stuff's just secondary. I've gotten used to it… but maybe that's the disturbing part." The salad was complete, a medley of everything good with a glass of everything questionable on the side. He took a seat at the counter, dressing his portion with croutons and a zesty vinaigrette. "To answer your question, yeah. I _am_ drinking. I'd be even more of a mess if I wasn't."

Did he really think that? That some alcohol could free him of himself? For all that genius and all that ingenuity, it turned out that a little bottle was his hero. His confidant. Not anyone else. Not any _thing_ else. Time after time, effort after effort, he couldn't get Stark to speak. Maybe his pride was just that important. And he said _he_ was impenetrable. "You're lucky we're not in the same room right now."

"You plannin' on solving my problems? If my memory is anything to go by, and it is, you specifically told me you weren't 'that' kind of doctor." Yes, this was what Tony was used to. Derailing. Deflecting. Anything else was too frightening. He knew once he started to open up, he wouldn't be able to stop. No one could know every inch of him, every smudge, every tear. He had something to uphold. He was Iron Man. Banner needed someone strong right now, as did the rest of the world. And so he played the part.

"I don't have to be," Bruce answered coolly, "I just have to care."

His response sent the other internally reeling. They were words he expected, yet they took him by surprise. The calmness in which he answered, the lull of his voice… It proved more soothing than the contents of his glass. Unthinkingly, he slumped slightly forward as fondness melted his posture. All so simple. All so profound.

That's right. This is what Bruce did to him. "I love that you put up with me." Tony spoke abruptly. Chin in hand, he stroked his cheek with his thumb, catching the coarseness of his facial hair. "…I love that you make me feel like a person."

"Ha…" the doctor laughed sheepishly, leaning against the wall, "I should be telling _you_ that." His smile slowly faded. There was more he should say. "I'm sorry, y'know… for giving you such a hard time. I was afraid of myself."

"Lemme let you in on a little secret, pal: we're ALL afraid of ourselves. Your dark side is always gonna be there… And so is mine."

"Yeah, but… with you, I don't feel it. Not nearly as much. Once I realized that, things were never quite the same between us and why am I telling you this when you're drunk." Maybe Banner was a little drunk on the moment. It was just nice to talk. Not about this thing or that, not about the time in between last. It was nice to stumble over his words and panic a little and feel this… inconsequential ecstasy.

Tony on the other hand was flowing. The passage of time had graced him with unyielded eloquence. And he was going to use it. Inhaling deeply, he poked around in his salad, eating slowly. "Bruce, you're everything I never thought I'd see in a man. Endearing. Cute. Not annoying. Kinda sexy." He smiled at that. "There's a lot I don't deserve. I've been horrible by choice. Do you know how many lives I've helped end? And here you are, constantly trying your damnednest not to hurt a fly. You're incredible. I've got all the words and all the feelings to back it up… but do we have a situation that'll ever allow _this_ to work?"

Banner's mouth opened then shut once more, tongue flicking across his lips. How exactly was he supposed to respond to that? The world seemed a little smaller around him, and prospects torpedoed into his head. He'd fought so hard against it. At the end of it, his desperate façade was just that: a façade.

They both have done horrible things. They both were what they were, and that wouldn't change. And they were both _trying._ Trying to be better. Trying to forgive themselves. There was understanding, There was patience. There was empathy. It just… made sense. And the despair of not _having_ what made sense wasn't worth facing. "I—"

"Bruce, is everything alright?" Nat pushed through the doors, gentle concern moving over her face. It'd been close to 15 minutes since the jittery doctor had stepped out. Her curiosity got the better of her, as did her concern. Bruce stared at her for a moment with blank eyes. His face twitched and he quickly composed himself.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine." He cleared his throat. Though everything screamed at him to look away, he stood his ground, attempting a natural posture.

"Been talkin' your ear off, huh?" Natasha began with one of her charming smiles. Tony's feeble protests managed to catch her attention, and she kindly reached for the phone. Bruce complied. "Hey. You've had oodles of time with Bruce. I think maybe it's time to share." There was a pause as she listened. Her green eyes moved to the doctor in a knowing way. "That he does. Bold of you to say. Uh-huh..." Her eyes widened in shock. "You're kidding."

Panic, panic, panic. "Uhh, Nat?"

Romanov moved the phone from her ear, revealing the home screen. "He hung up 30 seconds ago." Her smugness deepened as she caught sight of Banner's frightened confusion. She carefully tucked the device away. "I know, that was a little mean. But whatever you're hiding… you'll have to do better than that. The boys in there will catch on."

Bruce sighed, alarm bells dying down. There was no point in denying the obvious; the spy was trained for this. "Giving you guys anymore reason not to trust me wasn't the idea, I promise."

"We trust you." Natasha looked almost hurt. "We were worried. I know you and Tony are close, and I know what Hulk did broke you. But you didn't trust us to help you pick up the pieces?"

The doctor rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to say. Looking back on everything, she was right. He'd been much more interested in running, in torturing himself. He wanted to hate himself as some twisted recompense for his dangerous relapse. "I-I'm sorry."

"Well, you can show it by finishing lunch with us. You haven't eaten anything solid in 2 days."

…

Two weeks of surreptitious psych evals had eventually landed Doctor Banner back where he wanted to be. It helped that his friends vouched for him. After all, he'd established stability there, in addition to a support system. He was calmer, more optimistic than he'd been in a long while. The Hulk receded within him, and the peaceful moments much outshined the shaky ones. The nights were still a struggle, but the freedom he was beginning to feel again pushed him to move beyond it. He'd since had a shave, and a nice hair trim, curls parted loosely but clearly.

"Stop here, please." Stepping out of a taxi, he looked around. Fluttering blankets and tarp crackled high above, covering busted windows. Workers were on the job, doing the best they can, as fast as they can. He even spotted a couple of Stark's drones pitching in, repairing structures. That was New York for you. An alien invasion, HYDRA warfare, and a few Hulk-outs later, and the city still came out strong. The cool air kissed his face, carrying with it the scent of a nearby pizzeria. People shuffled past, not recognizing him or the damage he'd inadvertently caused. He was just another person on the street.

The Tower loomed so unwaveringly, protectively above the city. Brandished with its untampered and ever-meaningful "A", the doctor was reminded of all the good the team did these past few years. The good yet to be done. And also… this inescapable confrontation. There was a reason Bruce stopped a few blocks away. He had to gather his thoughts. Tucking his chilled hands into his jacket pockets, he trekked on, nervously. His friends really looked out; he was lucky to even be here. _Should_ he even be here? Yes. _Yes._ There was no more running away. His soft eyes grew softer, and his breaths grew shallower.

He wanted more.

Something in him knew for a long time that what he felt for his science companion was different. It was little, unspoken things. Nuances that made one think but not too hard. And so it went overlooked. This level of acceptance, this trust and dedication… he hadn't had this from anyone since Betty Ross. He felt… safe. Before he knew it, he stood in front of the building's main entrance. Taking a deep breath, he got the jelly out of his legs and approached the automatic doors.

 _"Doctor Banner."_ Jarvis greeted him through the overhead speaker. _"It's good to see you. I trust you're feeling better?"_

"Much better, Jarvis, thank you. Er… can I… get in?" He waved a hand in front of the doors in an attempt to trigger the sensors. There was an abnormal pause from the AI, and Banner picked up on it.

 _"Uh, yes, of course, Bruce."_ The doors slid open. _"You'll find them on the top floor."_ Them. So it was happening now. Great.

"Thanks."

…

The ride up was excruciating, and as the seconds ticked by, it felt as if Jarvis was standing there nervously with him. The anticipation was always the worst. The doors opened to silence. For a couple of minutes, he wandered around the floor, finding not a glimpse of raven or even blonde hair. He paused. "The platform." He went in said direction, and sure enough, two figures were seen standing at the edge. The conversation they were having seemed… strained. He slid the glass door open, and the two hadn't noticed him until he was directly behind them. "Hi."

Tony's eyes lit up, a marked improvement from just seconds ago. "Hey."

Bruce's cheek screamed with stinging pain as Pepper slapped him without hesitation. His nostrils flared a moment as he processed the action, eyes gently lidded. "I… deserved that." Venting a sigh, he rubbed the area as the pain began to subside. His brown eyes met her blue calmly, much to her unadmitted relief.

"Do you feel better now?" Tony berated, stepping between them. This was NOT how things were supposed to go.

"Congratulations, Doctor," the businesswoman glared over Stark's shoulder, "for managing to do the impossible. You've muscled me out of my own love life AND you can still look me in the eye after doing it." This was _really_ not how things were supposed to go.

Bruce swallowed away the dryness in his throat; for a moment, it was all he could do. Pepper was right, wasn't she? This all had been a covert stealing. A quiet exchange of hearts. All were none the wiser. "I'm sorry, Pepper. I know this is terrible. But I can't help it."

The blonde woman smiled a sharp smile, meandering her not-boyfriend to meet Bruce eye-to-eye. "Tony said the same thing, you know. But I'm sure he told you about that. He tells you a lot more than he tells me." To think things had been starting to get a little better between them. After the incident, Tony had no choice but to recuperate, settle down. Every second he wasn't out there, risking his life was precious to Potts. The whole thing was a blessing in disguise, though she'd never, ever admit that. They'd been talking more, fighting less. But all that progress fell flat once the doe-eyed disaster came back on the radar. And now all she could see in those doe-eyes was… She blinked away angry tears, refusing to cry.

"Peps." Tony tried weakly, but it only earned him a cold stare. There wasn't much to say. No refute. No words of comfort. Everyone knew the truth.

"I DON'T want to share you." Pepper began. "If I can't have all of you, then what really is the point?"

"I'm not asking you to share me, Peps." Tony shut his eyes, as if the words he spoke pained him, "I think… I think this has been over for a while." He glanced at the doctor a moment, then back at her with a sigh. He'd been gripping onto the same straws for years. Excuses. Denial. Sex. Flowers. It'd been the fuel in the tank, and they'd both been fine enough with it. This was a relationship. This was how it was done. It was Tony's best attempt at one, at least. What Pepper wanted, he couldn't give. Perhaps he was terrible for it. Perhaps it couldn't be helped. "C'mon, Peps. All I've been doing is hurting you. It's a talent I wish I didn't have, and you don't deserve it, and I'm putting it to bed today." Something tore inside him, intangible yet potent. The end of a charming chapter fast approached, rosy, thorny prose still etched fondly across the walls of his mind. It was glue, it was rubber, not quite sure what to be. But his heart tipped the scales. Being torn was indication enough.

Pepper scoffed, eyeing the skyline below before turning to face the engineeer. "Oh? You're sparing _me?_ Y'know, that really is noble of you, hon, doing this for MY sake. Tell me, Bruce, are you also doing this for me?" Potts couldn't take any more of this. Why couldn't they _just_ admit they were doing this for themselves?

"I want this." The doctor blurted out. "It seems to've been this way for a long time; I just didn't see it. But I don't want to see you miserable, Pepper, and this," he gestured between she and Tony, "has always been yours first. It's your call. If you tell me to back off, I will. If you don't… I won't." Bruce held his head slightly low, though his earthy eyes gleamed with an irrefutable truth.

Pepper's freckled cheeks were flushed with stress and disbelief, cerulean eyes glancing between the two Avengers. Their connection was different, distinguishable from everyone else's. Why didn't she see it back then? The signs were all there. It seemed she still wanted to believe in a dying thing. Sighing, she wiped a fresh-fallen tear, a somber calmness in her voice. "I think a decision's already been made." Her petite fingers brushed over Tony's cheek in an endearing way, lingering before leaving altogether. Her back was turned to them as she returned toward the shelter of the tower. The winds lapped at her loose hair.

A lump in his throat, Tony only had enough breath to call after her. "Peps…?" His tone was many inquiries in one.

"I need… some time." She called back. "Just some time." With not another word, Tony's ex disappeared behind the jutted corner of the far wall.

Bruce stared after her just as Tony did, until the very last moment. Shoulders slumped, he blinked over at the other. There was tension in his chest, and he held his breath, hoping the moment couldn't carry on without it. But it was inevitable. "I feel terrible."

The engineer nodded gently. "Yeah. But also… something else."

The doctor picked up on Tony's reluctance to say the words. It was gut-wrenchingly painful, heart-ripping, scary. And yet it was… good. The question that remained was:

Where do things go from here?

Banner nudged his glasses further onto his face with two fingers, rocking back and forth on his heels. If he were to speak now, only a garbled mess would come out. But if he didn't, he would surely never know what was going on in Tony's head. He watched him carefully, curiously. There were stress lines around his lips and on his brow, a sedated look set in his foggy gaze. His soft eyes were misted with conclusion; harrowed retrospect entangled him in a trance. How fascinating, to know everything he was contemplating, and yet… nothing. The exactitude of such a mental typhoon was uncertain, but his aura and trembling fingers gave light to his unexpressed ponderings. Finally, he caught Bruce's eyes, some of the brightness returning to his own. They stared and stared for a few moments, riding the waves of what this meant for them.

"Bruce." Tony spoke up. His voice had a little less edge than usual, gentle and soft.

"Yes…?" Bruce hummed back.

"You look worried."

"Yes. I-I mean no. No. I'm just…"

"Completely worried." Tony finished for him, stepping a little closer. "Nervous. Curious. And excited, yeah?" His fingers gently moved around Bruce's forearm, squeezing gently. "Me too." The brisk air stole the warmth from their skin and breaths, coolness settling between the emotional heat. What anxieties they had sat now in idle waiting.

This was the last time he'd ever hurt Pepper. It was the beginning of something new. Improbable, unexpected, and potentially wonderful. He wanted to know. He _needed_ to know. His hand fell away from the doctor's arm, the other raising to gently flick one of Bruce's hanging curls. "You trimmed it." A hint of a familiar smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. Bruce couldn't help but give a small smile of his own.

"Didn't realize how long it'd gotten."

Tony's eyes moved over his flustered face, drinking in the details. "Neither did I. You look good." He meant that in every possible way. The doctor had an air about him now that seemed lighter. Freer. His mental bindings relinquished some considerable hold, and the foggy veil cast over his eyes had dissipated. They were warm again. Hopeful again. More ensnaring than they were before. The billionaire turned his attention to the work being done below, licking his cold, dry lips. Goddamn it. His nerves were acting up again.

"Thanks," Bruce finally spoke up after a few seconds, hands resting loosely on his hips. He didn't know what else to do with them. "So… The way things were with me last month…" Tony raised a hand to silence him, eyes still set on his busy drones. They were nearly done.

"Doesn't matter anymore." With a clenched jaw, Tony looked at him again. Bruce was only about 2 inches shorter than he was, but the difference was noticeable standing this close.  
"You're here now, and that's all I've really wanted since then. Well, that, and…" Tony's chilled fingers rested on the side of the doctor's neck as he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Banner inhaled sharply, quickly melting into it. Warmth encased them both, and it was magnetic. This simple bliss lasted a few seconds more before Stark slowly pulled away. "…To know that this was the right decision."

Bruce gazed silently at him, mind muzzy and in disarray. It made Tony grin through his anxiety. He felt like he was 20 all over again.

"I think it is."


End file.
